Shake It Out
by FandomFox
Summary: After Metatron expels the angels from Heaven, Cas, Dean, and Sam have to find a way to put them back where they belong. Meanwhile, the boys have to find a way to save Sam from whatever the trials have done to him. Things are further complicated when Abaddon starts wreaking havoc on earth. Castiel discovers that his profound bond with Dean goes deeper than he ever imagined. Destiel.
1. The Levee's Gonna Break

_The angels, they're falling._

Dean gazed up at the night sky alight with hundreds of comets. It should have been beautiful. A shower of lights, raining down on the earth, streaking through the night sky as if God himself had decided to display the awesome power of His creation. But this was not God's doing, and it was not beautiful to Dean. Wherever God was hiding, Dean was sure that he was definitely not happy, because every one of those beautiful lights that were falling were not shooting stars. They were His soldiers. While a different man might have stopped to ponder the magnificence of the scene playing out before him, all Dean could do was wonder which one was Cas. He had to find Cas. He could be hurt, broken, lost, confused. Dean refused to even consider the possibility that he was dead. He couldn't lose his best friend again. The son of a bitch had already died too many times and Dean couldn't stand to lose him again. Dean needed Cas.

As he watched the angels falling, a childish idea struck him. Dean knew the things speeding across the sky weren't really shooting stars, but he didn't care. He had to hope. In his desperation, Dean did something he had never even done as a child: he picked a star and wished on it.

_Please let Cas come home to us._

_Please let Sam be okay._

_Please._

His Sammy let out a little groan beside him. Dean tore his eyes away from the sky and looked at him. He looked terrible; his long hair was dull, his skin pulled tight over his cheekbones, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Sam reached out with trembling hands and twisted his hand in Dean's shirt. Dean pulled him close and helped him to his feet.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm gonna take care of you."

Dean half carried him to the passenger door of the Impala and eased him in gently, supporting his head and neck like a small child, guiding him to lie down in the seat.

Dean would do anything for Sam. He would die a thousand deaths, rip apart an army of demons with his bare hands. Anything. He wanted to fight, to destroy whatever the trials had done to his brother, but for now all he could do was brush Sam's hair out of his eyes as he drifted to sleep. Sam was his responsibility. He loved his brother more than anything, and he refused to lose him. He would find a way to fix this and get Sammy back on his feet again.

Dean closed the car door and entered the church to get Crowley. They couldn't just leave him there, and Dean had an idea about what to do with him. He led Crowley to the back seat. The mook looked scared; worried that Dean was going to stab him in his throat. Dean shoved him in and slid behind the wheel. Sammy pillowed his head on Dean's thigh and sighed in his sleep, just like when they were little kids. As they hit the pavement and they took off down the highway, the last of the angels fell. The now dark sky seemed ominous. Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Cas, buddy, where the hell are you?" He whispered. "Come back to us man."

There was no answer, so Dean turned the car in the direction of the bunker. If Cas was okay, Dean knew he would make his way home.

Castiel looked up at the sky, and saw his brothers and sisters plummeting to Earth. He felt a tightness in his throat and his eyes stung. A drop of water cascaded from his eye and down his cheek.

How peculiar, he thought.

Then a choked noise came from his throat and he fell to his knees chest heaving. These must be tears. His first tears as a human, shed for his kin, because of what he had done to them. So if these were tears then this crushing sensation in his chest, like his heart weighed a million pounds, must be emotions. He lay face down in the soft leaves and tried to identify each feeling as they washed over him in endless waves.

_Sadness. Guilt. Shame. Anger._

He had experienced emotion to a small degree during the apocalypse when he had fallen, but it was nowhere near as intense as this. All the emotion swirling inside him was overwhelming. Castiel started to hyperventilate, his crying changing to a full scale panic attack. He felt like he was losing his mind. He automatically reached out with his mind and prayed to his Father.

_Father, what do I do? Make it stop, please._

As if in answer to his plea, an image of Dean popped into his head. Dean. Dean. He had to do what Dean would do. Cas thought back to when he had first pulled the hunter from Hell. His friend had been haunted by the memories and the guilt of what he had done there. He'd had nightmares, panic attacks, and generally didn't seem to think he deserved to continue drawing breath. Cas knew different. Dean was a good man, a righteous man. Castiel, Angel of the Lord had touched Dean's soul when he raised him from the pit, and all he felt was good. Cas had never felt anything more beautiful in all of his existence. But Dean didn't see that. His mind was turbulent, his heart heavy, and yet he had carried on. Dean had shoved it all to the back of his mind and locked it in a steel box, never to be examined too closely. Cas decided to try it. He had to be strong like Dean.

He took all of his new emotions, his memories of Metatron's betrayal, the agony of his grace being ripped from him, and most painfully, the look on Dean's face when he had asked him not to trust Metatron, and locked them away in his mind. Castiel's breathing slowed, the tears stopped, and his trembling vanished. He took several deep breaths, in and out, then got up from his prone position on the ground, brushing dead leaves and dirt from his trench coat.

He had to get to the bunker. Dean and Sam would be there.

If Sam was still alive, he thought. No, don't think that, Dean stopped him. He had to. Shut it down, Cas. Be like Dean.

They would have no way to find where he had fallen, so they would have gone home. Maybe it could be his home now if they even wanted him anymore. Cas had caused so much damage to the Winchesters and the world. Raising Sam from Hell and then keeping it a secret. Working with Crowley. Unleashing the Leviathan. Leaving Dean alone in Purgatory and then staying behind when his friend tried to save him. Naomi forcing him to beat Dean almost as badly as Lucifer had when he had taken Sam as a vessel. Taking the angel tablet, and now Metatron. What if this was the last straw? What if Dean slammed the door in his face and he was all alone? He would have brought it on himself, but the thought made him physically sick. He had to make it right. He couldn't lose the Winchesters. He couldn't lose Dean. The green eyed hunter was his closest friend, more of a brother to him than even the other angels in Heaven had been. He couldn't bear it to lose Dean.

Cas didn't remember any of Dean's phone numbers. He didn't even know where he was, so he did the only thing he could. Castiel started walking. He walked and walked for hours, surrounded by dense forest. Every noise made him jump. He was by no means a coward, but he was unarmed and didn't like the idea of wrestling a wild animal in the dark. Eventually Cas came to a deserted highway. He remembered that humans sometimes stuck their thumbs out and cars appeared to give them a ride. He stuck out his thumb and was discouraged when nothing happened. Perhaps he was doing it wrong. He stood by the side of the road with his arm out and thumb up for a while, but nothing happened. He must be doing something wrong. Maybe there was a spell involved. He would have to ask Dean. In the meantime, he chose a direction and started walking.

Eventually, he came to a sign that announced that he was outside of Ottawa, Kansas. Kansas! Of all the places he could have fallen to, he was lucky enough to fall in the same state as the bunker. He did some calculations with the maps he had memorized throughout the centuries. Ottawa was roughly 250 miles from Lebanon. If he could manage to steal a car, he could make it in about four hours. He knew how to hot wire a car. Dean had taught him. Cas had remembered how at ease he looked as his strong, capable hands manipulated the wires under the dashboard. It made a warmth he didn't understand bloom in his chest, but he didn't mind. It put him at ease. Driving would be another problem altogether. Castiel knew the theory behind how to operate a motor vehicle, but had never had to do it before. He had simply willed himself across time and space, or one of the Winchesters had driven. However, Cas was confident he could figure it out if he had to.

He followed the curve of the highway and saw the lights of the small city. On the outskirts, there was a shabby motel. It was the middle of the night, and all seemed quiet. There was no one in the parking lot, so Cas decided to take a car from there. He saw a small blue vehicle, battered and run down like him, and decided this was the one. The emblem said Tracker. Cas was in luck: it was unlocked. He fiddled with some buttons and got the trunk to open. Inside he found a toolbox. He remembered that humans could track cars by their registration tags, so he quickly found a screwdriver in the box and swapped the license plates with a nearby Honda Civic. He slid behind the wheel and with a few fumbling movements, exposed the wires beneath the steering column. He stripped them the way Dean had shown him and tapped them together until the car rumbled to a start.

Castiel put the car in drive. In his inexperience, he hit the gas too hard and sent the car hurtling toward the wall of the motel. He panicked and slammed on the brake, sending him jolting forward in the seat. Cas took a deep breath and tried to think of how Dean had gotten the car to work. No, Dean always drove too fast and recklessly. He was too new at operating a motor vehicle to try that, so instead he thought about how Sam drove. With that image in mind, Castiel gently eased his foot on the gas and was pleased when the car moved smoothly. He directed the car to the highway and drove carefully, a sense of excitement overtaking him. He was going to Dean. He was going home.


	2. Silent Lucidity

Dean walked through the front door of the bunker carrying a sleeping Sam, Crowley in tow. Kevin was frantically trying to shut off the alarms that were buzzing throughout the bat cave. The Prophet's eyes were wide as Dean gently laid his brother on a couch. Then Kevin caught sight of The King of Hell and froze. Kevin was a nice kid, but when his eyes locked with the demon's, his gaze filled with a look of hate that Dean had never seen him wear before. Kevin charged, and Dean was forced to restrain him. Crowley's eyes went wide and he hastily took a few steps back.

"Let me go, Dean!" shouted Kevin.

"No, Kevin, you gotta calm down buddy."

"Son of a bitch killed my Mom, I'll kill him! I'll kill him myself!"

Kevin's eyes filled with tears and he fought like a wild animal to get free. Dean held him fast and soon Kevin stopped struggling. He went limp and cried like a scared little kid who had lost everything. Dean didn't know what to do; he was no good at expressing his emotions, so he just hugged him awkwardly and let him cry it out. When he was sure Kevin would stay put, he walked to the control panels and shut the alarms off.

"Dean, what the hell is going on out there? Why is he here? Did you close the Gates?"

Dean grabbed two beers from the mini fridge, then sank into a chair and gestured for Kevin to do the same. While they drank, Dean told him everything; Castiel showing up and asking Dean to help him close the Gates of Heaven, Naomi telling them it was a trick and Metatron was working a spell to make the angels fall, and that if Sam completed the trials, he would die. Kevin inhaled sharply and looked at Sam.

"Is Sam gonna be okay?"

"I almost didn't get there in time." said Dean quietly. He closed his eyes trying hard not to think of the look on Sam's face when he had told him he would die if he finished the trial. Sam had just stared at him, and uttered a single, heartbreaking word:

_'So?'_

Dean pushed it all to the back of his mind, ran a hand over his face, and continued.

"He didn't finish the trial, but he's really sick, man. We ran outside together and then the angels just started falling. Cas didn't believe Naomi and took off to talk to Metatron. The dick must have tricked him or something. We don't know where he is now."

Dean refused to believe that Castiel had willingly let the other angels be booted out of the sky-mall. Cas may have screwed up royally a time or two, but he was good deep down where it counted. Dean just hoped he would come back to them. He couldn't even imagine being angry at the angel for this. They had been through so much together. Dean just hoped his Guardian was okay. They would deal with the rest as it came.

"So the angels are all human now?" asked Kevin, interrupting his wayward thoughts.

"I guess," replied Dean, "I'm not really sure what's going to happen to them. We don't know if they are going to have any powers at all. Maybe they'll fall like Anna did and be born as human children. Or they could fall like Lucifer and still have some power left. We're going to have to do research."

Kevin looked at Sam. "First thing, we have to do is get Sam back on his feet. This could just fade away like an illness, but I doubt it. I need to read the tablet and see if there is a way to pull the plug once the trials have been started."

Dean felt his heart swell with affection for Kevin. The world was crashing down on them, and his first thought was taking care of Sam. Maybe the kid was turning into a Winchester.

"Alright. Thanks, Kevin."

"Don't mention it." The Prophet's eyes fell back to Crowley, who was standing with his back to the wall, looking anywhere but Kevin. He looked utterly broken. "What are we going to do with him?" asked Kevin, his voice laced with contempt.

"Sam was almost done with the demon cure when I stopped him. I figure we pick up where he left off. Finish the cure, make him human."

"Why not just kill him?" asked Kevin.

Dean thought about it for a moment. He wasn't really sure why not, except his gut told him it was wrong. He had been hunting long enough to trust an instinct like this, so he simply said, "Because it would make us no better than him."

Kevin snorted, but seemed to accept it and departed to his room to decipher the tablet.

Dean approached Crowley. "You should just kill me," said the demon dully, "I don't deserve mercy, the things I've done..." Crowley took a shuddering breath. "Dean," he said softly, "I'm sorry. For everything."

Dean had absolutely no idea how to deal with that. He crouched down and looked him in the eyes.

"Look, it's obvious that you aren't the same Crowley that's been a pain in my ass for the last few years. I'm not saying you aren't responsible for what you've done. I'm not saying I trust you. But you have a chance to atone for the things you've done. Maybe if you do enough good, it'll balance out some of the bad."

Crowley looked as if Dean's words were a life preserver thrown to a drowning man. He nodded and allowed himself to be led to the dungeon.

When Crowley was situated, he carried Sam to his bed and covered him up like a child. When he was little, Sam used to pretend to be asleep on the couch so that Dean would carry him to bed and tuck him in. Dean had known Sam was awake, but he hadn't minded. He just wanted his Sammy to be a kid for a little while longer. Dean remembered the only time he had tried it himself. He had pretended to be asleep on the couch, hoping his Father would carry him to bed. When Dad had stumbled in the door reeking of gunpowder and tequila, he had kicked the couch and screamed for Dean to go the hell to bed before he fell face first onto the stained cushions and passed out drunk. Dean had never tried that again. He had never forgotten the crushing disappointment of it. He never wanted Sammy to feel that way, so every time Sam pretended, Dean scooped his little brother in his arms, carried him to the bed they shared, and gently tucked him in.

But this time, Sam wasn't pretending. He was fast asleep, and when Dean reached up and brushed his too long hair out of his eyes, his forehead was burning hot. Dean hurried to the kitchen and made and ice pack. When he made it back to the bedroom, Sam's eyes were open. He was struggling to get something out of his pants pocket. When his hand breached the blankets, he had something Dean couldn't see clenched tightly in his fist.

"Heya, Sammy."

Dean leaned over to put the ice on Sam's forehead.

Sam's free hand reached up and twisted in Dean's shirt. Sam pulled him closer so he wouldn't have to talk too loudly.

"Hey Dean, remember that time I got sick and Dad wouldn't take me to the hospital?"

Dean couldn't believe that Sam even remembered, he had only been 4 at the time, but he nodded.

Sam continued, "I couldn't make it to the bathroom in time and I threw up everywhere. And I was afraid that Dad would be mad at me, but you told me it was gonna be okay. You cleaned me up and changed the bed and then you slept with me all night and gave me medicine. Made me better. You remember that Deano?"

"Yeah, I remember Sammy," said Dean, his voice soothing, "I'm gonna take care of you now like I did then. Not gonna let anything happen to you."

Sam sighed contentedly at that, and started to drift back to sleep.

"Dean?" He muttered.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"You got rid of it, but I want you to have it back," whispered Sam. And then he let out a soft snore and was sleeping peacefully again.

Dean wondered what he had meant when he saw a black string peaking from between Sam's fingers. He opened Sam's hand and saw his amulet resting in his palm.

Dean Winchester was not an emotional man. He was a hardened warrior that could stare down the barrel of a gun with a sarcastic smile on his face. Not much got to him, but as he stared at the amulet in his little brother's hand, his vision blurred with tears. He had kept it. Sam had kept it.

Dean had to get up and move to the hallway. He put his back to the wall, slowly slid to the floor with his head in his hands and quietly cried, overwhelmed. When Dean had thrown the amulet away it was because he had utterly and completely lost his hope. He didn't think the Apocalypse could be stopped. He had lost faith in God, in Sam, in Cas, and most of all in himself. The amulet had represented himself, and he had thrown it in the trash like it was nothing. He had regretted it later, but it had been too late to take it back. But his Sammy had waited until he had walked away and dug it out of the trash, because he still believed. He still had faith in Dean. He had held onto it for all these years, and now he wanted him to have it back.

Dean wiped his face and rose gracefully to his feet. He padded softly into the bedroom and approached the bed. When he reached Sam, he adjusted the ice on his forehead, and then reached for the amulet and put it around his neck. As the familiar weight settled on his chest next to his heart, he felt complete again. He looked down and saw Sam's eyes on him. He grinned up at him. Dean smiled back and said, "Thanks, Sammy."

Sam was still grinning as he drifted back to sleep.

Castiel drove the stolen car down the highway. He was only fifty miles from the bunker. He was happy, but he had never experienced this level of discomfort before, and he didn't know what to do to remedy it. His belly seemed to be growling at him, his throat was scratchy, and his eyes burned. He felt slow. He could hardly focus. It was so difficult to keep his eyes open, and he didn't know why. His limbs started to feel heavy.

A horn blared loudly, startling Cas. He was about to hit a truck. Cas jerked the wheel to the right and crashed in a ditch. His head smacked the steering wheel and a gash opened on his forehead. He was bleeding, but he seemed relatively unharmed otherwise. The truck rolled past him and kept driving down the road. He calmed himself and tried to start the car again, but it just made an odd noise. Castiel decided that he would just have to walk. He knew the way, and fifty miles didn't seem that far. How long could it take? Cas straightened his coat, squared his shoulders determinedly ignoring the blood on his face, and started the long walk home.

A few weeks back, Dean had discovered a small chapel tucked away in the back of the bunker. Apparently the Men of Letters had also been men of religion. Dean walked down the small isle, letting his fingers trail absently over the hard wood of the pews as he made his way to the confession booth. He thought about Sam doing the same thing at the church, about what Sam had confessed to. He felt a surge of guilt that he had ever made his Sam feel as if he wasn't important to him. Sammy was the most important thing to him; he came first, always.

He opened the door and situated himself into the narrow booth before sinking to his knees with his hands pressed together in front of his face. He didn't really know who would be listening, but he bowed his head anyway and just started. He asked for forgiveness for many things.

For the drinking, the stealing, and lying.

For ditching so many women.

For taking Sam from Jess, resulting in her death.

For his father's death.

For the first time Sam had died. For failing to protect him.

For selling his soul and the things he did in Hell.

For the words he regretted saying most in his life: _"If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" _

For Castiel being forced to rebel for them.

For Adam, his poor brother Adam still in Hell, dragged into a fight he didn't belong in.

For Lisa and Ben.

For not being there when Cas needed him.

For every person he couldn't save.

But Dean's greatest sin was making Sam feel the way he had in that church. How he was willing to throw his life away because he didn't want to let Dean down. Letting Sam down, that was his biggest regret.

When he left the tiny chapel, Dean felt like he left a dark part of himself behind. He felt lighter than he had in years; since before he had gone to Hell.

Dean entered the dungeon where Crowley was sitting compliantly. Dean walked over to the supplies he had set out earlier and drew a syringe of his own blood.

He turned around to see the King of Hell looking at him. He looked scared, but determined.

"Do it, Dean."

Dean inserted the needle into Crowley's neck and pressed the plunger. Crowley winced and groaned in pain. His neck was a swollen mess from all the other shots he had endured.

Dean sat across from the demon, and they waited together for the clock to signify the time for the next dose.

The answer to Castiel's earlier question about how long it would take to walk fifty miles was a very, very long time. His feet hurt, his back ached, his head throbbed, and his legs were on fire. He had long since overheated and slung his battered trench coat over his shoulder. It hadn't helped much, so he had rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up as well. His throat felt like sandpaper and his gut felt like it was turning inside out. Hunger, that's what he was feeling. It was nice to be able to identify the gnawing in his stomach. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it right now.

Cas had walked all night. He had watched the sun rise and travel like a wheel in the sky. He had passed into Lebanon around noon, and now estimated that he was only a few miles away. The gash on his head throbbed in time with his pulse and stung as sweat dripped down into the abrasion. His mind kept going places he wasn't ready for them to go. An image of Metatron, standing over him, cutting out his grace popped into his head. Cas began to hyperventilate as he remembered the agony of it. All he had been thinking was for Dean to please save him. Dean, that's right he had to be like Dean. Shut it down, Cas. He wrestled those memories back into the metaphorical steel box where he wouldn't have to face them. His breathing slowed and he forced himself to keep walking. He felt as though he would drop unconscious in exhaustion, but he made himself go faster.

He needed to see Dean, he thought desperately. He was almost there. He just had to go faster.

Dean injected the final dose of his blood into Crowley's body. "It's time," he said.

Crowley looked up at him, his neck swollen, dark circles under his eyes and said, "I'm ready. Do it."

Dean cut his hand with his pocket knife and approached the King of Hell. He hesitated, but Crowley looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Finish it, Dean. Please."

Dean sealed his bleeding hand over Crowley's mouth and recited, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Hanc animam redintegra, lustras, lustras!"

There was a blinding flash of white light that momentarily blinded Dean. When the room darkened again, Crowley was slumped unconscious in the chair. Dean felt for the pulse point on his wrist. His heart was beating steadily. He had survived. Dean unlocked him from the demon handcuffs and carried him to one of the extra beds in the back of the bunker and cuffed one wrist to the headboard with normal, police grade cuffs. He felt guilty for doing it, but he didn't trust Crowley, human or not. He would have to earn his trust.

Dean sighed as he headed down the hall. He stopped to check on Sammy on his way to the kitchen. His breathing was even and his fever was down a little. He left the room and went straight to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and drained it almost instantly. He immediately sloshed more into the glass and plopped down onto the leather sofa.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe Crowley would be great now that he was human. Maybe Sam would recover and everything would be fine for once. Except it wouldn't be fine unless Cas was around. Dean's heart was heavy in Castiel's absence. Cas was his best friend. They had been through so much together, and Cas had changed so much. Dean remembered the first time they had met. How powerful he had been, immune to every weapon Dean had ever used against the supernatural. He remembered the first time Cas had spoken, his voice so much deeper than it should be.

_"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."_

Dean had never understood the full extent of what that meant until the night before they tried to kill Lucifer with the Colt. Cas had told him the whole riveting tale: how he and his garrison had lain siege to Hell. How he had slain hundreds of demons to get to him, and then he had pulled him topside. It was impossible not to be friends with someone who had done all of that to save you.

Cas had gone from that powerful celestial being to an almost human who called an archangel an ass-butt because he didn't know how to swear properly. Dean smiled at the memory. He really was a bad influence.

Castiel had wormed his way into Dean's heart and had never left, even when Dean was pissed at him. Cas was special to him in a way he didn't understand or want to examine too closely. It made him warm and happy inside. It was confusing and terrifying. All Dean knew was that he needed Cas, and that if he didn't turn up, Dean couldn't be okay.

He let out a sigh and drained his glass. He got up to pour another when there was a loud banging on the bunker door. Dean tensed immediately, thinking of demons and fallen angels and a million other things that could want to hurt them. The banging continued, louder now. Dean set the glass down and snatched up a shotgun. He moved quietly to the door and wrenched it open, pointing the gun into Castiel's face.

Dean's mind went into free fall, spinning out of control with relief. It was dizzying.

"Hello, Dean," said Cas, his voice low and weary. Dean immediately lowered the gun and stepped closer, his heart pounding. Cas reached out with his right hand and closed it over the brand he had left on Dean's skin. Cas had never had a great grasp on personal space, but right now Dean couldn't care less even though they were almost chest to chest. Warmth bloomed from the point of contact and seeped into them both, reassuring them that this was real, that they were alive. They just stared at each other, sharp green eyes locked on piercing blue. Cas looked awful. His forehead was caked in dried blood, his lips were cracked and bleeding, and his clothes were dirty.

Cas stepped closer so they were touching, the pleasant warmth he didn't understand blossoming in his chest again, his eyes intense. "Dean, I came home," he whispered.

Then without any preamble whatsoever he collapsed, unconscious.

"Cas?" he yelled alarmed. Dean caught him in his strong arms and lowered them both to the ground, holding the former angel close. He checked his pulse. It was strong and steady. Dean carried Cas to the couch and laid him down gently. He looked over Castiel's strong body, and he seemed uninjured other than his head. Dean thought about what Cas had said: 'Dean, I came home.' He sat next to his Guardian and kept watch. Castiel was home with Dean where he belonged.


	3. Flightless Bird

Castiel felt peaceful. He was sprawled out on something impossibly soft and warm. He sighed and rolled over. At the movement, a sickening pain exploded in his head. His eyes sprang open and his vision was full of Dean. The hunter was sitting in a chair beside the couch Cas was on, watching him. His face was perfectly blank, his eyes unreadable. Cas sat up slowly, wincing at the throbbing in his head.

"Hello, Dean," he said quietly.

Dean didn't answer. Castiel's heart was in his throat because Dean was obviously upset. This was it, he was going to throw him out, and he would deserve it. Dean stood and pulled Cas roughly from the couch by the lapels of his coat, staring intently at his face. Cas closed his eyes and waited for fists to rain down on him. He would not lift one finger against Dean to stop him; he would never strike his friend again after what happened with Naomi. But the blow never came. The next thing Castiel knew, he was in Dean's arms. He had jerked him forward by the coat and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

Dean was hugging him. Not like he had in Purgatory, when he had radiated tension and weariness and fear. This time Dean exuded relief and happiness to see him. His eyes sprung open in surprise. When Cas had been an angel, he had never hugged Dean back. He didn't see the point. Hugs held no comfort for him. But inexplicably, warmth radiated throughout Castiel's body. Happiness, he thought. This is happiness. For the first time ever, Castiel raised his arms and wrapped them around Dean's waist, holding him tight. At the contact, everything he had been ignoring came rushing back, and he couldn't stop the tears that suddenly spilled from his eyes. He gasped, trying to hold it all in.

"Shhhh. Hey, Cas, buddy it's okay. I gotcha."

And that was it. Cas couldn't keep in inside any longer. He buried his face in Dean's shoulder and started sobbing. Dean navigated them both so they were sitting on the couch and held his friend while he cried. He felt none of the awkwardness that he had when it had been Kevin crying. He just held Cas like he had held his brother when Sammy was little and gotten upset: rocking him gently, stroking his hand through Cas' dirty hair, and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Cas started babbling between sobs. He told Dean everything; about him confronting Metatron and Naomi's death. When he got to the part about how Metatron had tied him down and cut out his grace, Dean tensed. Cas just kept going, getting more and more hysterical. He cried even harder and said, "And my wings are gone Dean. After my grace was taken they were just ripped from my body. I begged for it to stop. I prayed to you. Dean I can't fly anymore, I don't know. Please just..."

After that Cas was incoherent. He sobbed like he was broken. Dean closed his eyes in pain at the agony Cas had been forced to endure. After all the times Dean had prayed to Cas, this time Cas had prayed for Dean to save him, and Dean hadn't been there. He was filled with rage at what Metatron had done, and swore in that moment to make him pay. He held his friend close, until Cas had cried himself out. When he pulled away there was a big wet spot on Dean's shirt.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Cas thought about it and tilted his head to the side. "Yes, although I don't understand why. This has changed nothing."

"You're human now, Cas. It doesn't have to make sense. People just feel better after they cry. It's the way we are."

Cas looked up at Dean. Their eyes locked. Something Cas didn't understand was happening to his heart. It had picked up speed, electricity was crackling through his veins, and he felt heat in his cheeks. Dean's gaze darkened, eyes changing from bright green to the color of trees in a thunderstorm. Castiel might not have understood what was happening, but he did know he didn't want it to stop.

The spell was broken when Castiel's stomach let out a huge growl. Dean chuckled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Dean, my body has been making strange noises. I don't understand." Castiel looked confused. Dean smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Cas looked like a lost puppy, and it was downright adorable.

"You're hungry, Cas. You have to take care of your body. You have to remember to eat and sleep now that you're human. And shower. You go shower. I'll find you some clothes and I'll fix you some grub."

Cas frowned, and Dean picked up on it. "I can show you if you need it."

"I know the theory of it, but I don't know how to work the shower," said Cas.

Dean led Castiel to the bathroom. He talked him through how to operate the shower. He showed him all the different bottles and told him what soap went where. Cas nodded and then stepped into the shower fully clothed. Dean laughed.

"No, Cas, you have to take your clothes off."

Cas frowned and then started stripping. Dean turned bright red.

"Wait, Cas! Not in front of me. Alone. You get naked alone."

Castiel tilted his head again and listened to Dean's explanation about towels and the laundry basket for soiled clothing. When Cas seemed like he understood what to do, Dean left the bathroom and headed down the hall to his room. After a few moments of rummaging through the drawers, Dean found a pair of jeans with the knees ripped out and an old AC/DC shirt that had shrunk in the dryer. They looked like they would fit. Dean grabbed a pair of boxers and some socks and headed back to Cas. He opened the bathroom door to set the clothes on the counter and saw the silhouette of Castiel, naked. Dean's mouth went dry, and his breathing deepened. He left the clothes and quietly closed the door behind him.

Dean headed to the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for cheeseburgers. He absently threw them in the pan, lost in thought. Dean hadn't been attracted to a man in years. He had never told anyone except Sam, but Dean was bisexual. He had never slept with a guy; the furthest he had ever gotten was getting jerked off by Mitchel Robertson when he was 17. He had never met a man he cared for enough to sleep with, but Dean couldn't deny that he was attracted to Cas. He had been for years; he had just never done anything about it because of the whole angel thing. But now Cas was human like him. Dean let out a sigh. He couldn't approach Cas with this. He had just become human. How could he tell an angel of the Lord that he has the hots for him? Didn't angels look down on the whole gay thing? No, he couldn't do that to Cas. He was terrified to mess things up between them. He couldn't lose him. Friendship would have to be enough.

Dean frowned and pulled the burgers out of the frying pan. He topped them with cheese, onion, tomato, and ketchup and put a mountain of Doritos on each plate. When he turned around, Cas was standing in the doorway watching him. He looked amazing. The t shirt fit just right, tight around his chest. Something about Castiel wearing Dean's clothes was ridiculously hot. His hair was fluffy and stuck up in all directions from the vigorous towel drying it had received, his blue eyes were curious, yet intense, studying every move Dean made. It took his breath away.

"I believe I am clean, Dean," said Cas.

Dean smiled at his friend. "Looks like it," he said.

Dean gestured at the table. Cas took a seat, watching Dean. His head still hurt, but the shower had made him feel less sore. He picked up the food and took a tentative bite. Flavor exploded over his taste buds. The noise that came out of his mouth was positively pornographic. Cas dug in and Dean set a glass of water before him. Cas drank, and the scratchy feeling in his throat vanished. He drained the glass in a few large gulps and Dean refilled it for him. He was reminded of the time that Cas had been taken from his vessel. Jimmy Novak had eaten with the same intensity.

"Cas, if you're human, what happened to Jimmy?" asked Dean.

Cas took another bite. "When God resurrected me the first time, it was without Jimmy. His soul is at rest in Heaven."

Dean nodded, relieved. Castiel finished his food. His fingers rubbed at his temples. Dean grabbed some aspirin and gave a few pills to the former angel. Cas washed them down with water as Dean grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. He cleaned the gash of Castiel's forehead with peroxide.

"How'd this happen anyway?"

"I crashed a motor vehicle," said Cas.

"You were driving?" Dean was alarmed. He didn't think Cas knew how to drive.

"I learned from watching you and Sam." Cas frowned. "Where is Sam?"

"He's sleeping. The trials really took it out of him. Cas, do you know if he's going to get better?"

"I don't know." Cas looked sad. "We will simply have to research until we find a way to fix this. We will help Sam."

Dean nodded then went back to cleaning the abrasion on Castiel's skin. "This is pretty deep Cas."

"Will it require stitches?" asked Cas.

"Nah, I have something else here." Dean pulled out a bottle of Derma-bond. He squirted a line into the cut and squished the sides together. When the liquid stitches had dried, the gash was held together. It now looked like a thin scratch. "Good as new," said Dean, "Gotta keep you looking pretty."

Castiel felt the heat rise in his cheeks again and felt pleased that Dean found him attractive. He felt he should return the favor, so he said, "I find you attractive as well, Dean."

Dean spit the water he had been drinking everywhere in shock. "Uh, thanks Cas," he stammered.

Cas smiled at him. It was gorgeous. Castiel never smiled as an angel, but his new found humanity was bleeding through. Human expressions were coming naturally to him now. His eyes crinkled at the corner, bright blue and sparking with mischief; dimples popped up on his cheeks. Castiel's smile was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. He blinked rapidly and shook his head like a dog. "I, uh, I need to take some food to Crowley."

Cas nodded and started eating Doritos out of the bag. Dean took the plate down the hall to Crowley's room. He opened the door to find Crowley awake, reading the book from the nightstand. He looked up as Dean entered the room.

"Hey, Crowley. I brought lunch." Crowley gave him a little smile. Dean sighed and approached the bed, retrieving the handcuff keys from his pocket. He unlocked the smaller man from his bonds.

"You're letting me go?" asked the former demon, incredulous.

"Not quite," said Dean. "I'm letting you out of the cuffs, but you can't leave the bunker. There's no telling what would happen to you out there. So I'll unlock these, but you have to promise not to leave."

"I promise," said Crowley. Dean unlocked the cuffs and showed him where the bathroom was. Then he left to go back to Castiel.

Cas was waiting for Dean when he returned. "May I see Sam?" he asked.

"Of course, dude. You don't have to ask."

They got up from the table and took off to Sam's room. Cas looked at Sam's face with sorrow. He wished he could take all Sam's pain away; he didn't deserve this. Castiel looked up at Dean. "Do we know what the trials did to him yet?" he asked.

"Not yet. Kevin is working on it." As if on cue, Kevin burst into the room. He didn't even seem to notice Cas. "Dean, I have to talk to you," he said.

Dean ushered him out of the room and into the hall. "The tablet," The Prophet began, "I found something on it. It talked about how the trials cleanse the person doing them. It purifies them; expels evil from their body."

Dean was drawing up a blank, but Cas understood. "The demon blood," he said, "The trials were cleansing Azazel's blood from his body. That's why his molecular structure was changing."

Dean looked confused. "Isn't that good? Getting rid of the demon blood?"

"Yes, it should be," said Cas, "But not when he is stuck halfway like this. The imbalance in his blood is killing him. His body has had demon blood his entire life. Without it his organs will slowly stop functioning. We have to do something, or Sam is going to die."

Dean was as white as a sheet. "Skip to the part about how to fix it," he said roughly. Castiel closed his eyes and thought for a moment, sifting through the vast store of knowledge in his head. "We have two options. We can give Sam more demon blood-"

"No." said a voice behind them. Sam had woken up. He was unsteady on his feet, but he looked determined.

"Sammy-"started Dean.

"No." he said firmly, "Find something else. I'd rather die than go down that road again."

Castiel continued before there was an argument. "There is another option. We could find a way to finish purifying Sam's blood. If we can find a powerful enough cleansing ritual, we can finish what the trials started. But those are our only two options, and we have to hurry, or you are going to waste away, Sam."

"Well then, looks like we've got work to do."

_Castiel was sitting in a field. It was nice; there were flowers and insects everywhere. He felt at peace. But then the sky darkened. Lightening cracked across the horizon. Suddenly there was a loud noise behind him. He turned around and saw Dean fighting with a demon. It hit him over and over again, bloodying his face. Cas started running at him. He heard the sickening crunch of bone as Dean's nose broke. "Dean!" he screamed. The demon turned and saw Cas. An evil smile took over its face and its eyes flashed pure black. It wheeled around, pulling a knife from its jacket. "Dean, look out!" he screamed. The knife glinted wickedly in the lightening flashing around the sky before it was plunged into Dean's heart. "No!" screamed Castiel. The demon vanished, and Cas finally reached his hunter. "No, no, Dean, NO!" _

_"Cas," whispered Dean through bloodstained lips. _

_"I can heal you, Dean I'll heal you, it's okay." _

_Castiel laid his hands on the hunter and reached for the familiar pull of his grace swirling inside of him. There was nothing there. "No," he said. He laid his hands on the hunter. Nothing happened. "No, no, DEAN! DEAN PLEASE! " _

_"Cas," whispered Dean. A shuddering breath was released from his mouth. Dean was dead. _

_"Dean?" Cas shook him and he lay unmoving, his beautiful green eyes open and seeing nothing. Castiel began to scream_.

Dean was jolted awake by a bloodcurdling scream. He sat upright as the screeching started again. It was Cas. Dean threw the covers off, grabbed his handgun off his nightstand and sprinted for Castiel's room. He burst through the door to see Cas thrashing in his bed, his legs tangled in the blankets. His eyes were screwed shut and he was sucking in breath to scream again. Dean dropped the gun on the floor and ran to the bed.

"Cas!" he shook him hard. "Cas, wake up!"

Castiel's eyes flew open. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas. You okay?"

"Dean, I don't understand you were dead. I couldn't save you Dean. You died." His voice broke, and Cas flung himself into Dean's arms and started to howl in misery.

"I'm okay, Cas. It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

"Dean." Cas just held him close and cried himself out. When he was quiet again, Dean pulled back and looked at his face. "You okay?" Cas shook his head. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked. Cas took a deep breath and told him the dream. When he was finished there were tears in his eyes again. He looked at the hunter like a man in the desert who had found water. He tentatively raised his hand and placed it on Dean's muscular chest over his heart. When he could feel Dean's heartbeats, he noticeably relaxed. Dean's breathing deepened and his eyes fluttered shut. Castiel felt something he didn't understand begin to rise inside of him. His blood quickened and his breathing sped up. He had no idea what to call the emotion rising inside of him until the flesh between his legs began to harden and ache. Desire. This was desire.

Castiel was utterly indifferent to sexual orientation. He and Dean had always shared a profound bond. He had never suspected that their bond ran this deep, but now that he was freed from the emotionless mindset of an angel, it felt nice. It felt right, but he had never felt desire before; he didn't know what to do about it, or if Dean could ever feel the same.

Dean was looking into his angels eyes. The normally bright blue had darkened to the turbulent cobalt of a stormy sea. He watched Castiel's breathing speed up and his lips part. He was so beautiful, Dean wanted nothing more than to close the short distance between them and press their mouths together. It would be soft and warm. He wanted to nip and suck at those perfect lips, and tangle his fingers in the downy locks of his hair.

Dean stood suddenly, trying to get away before he did exactly what he was thinking. "Are you good, Cas?"

"No," said Cas, averting his eyes. "I'm afraid I'll have another nightmare." He looked embarrassed, but whispered, "Will you stay with me?" He looked up at Dean, smoldering eyes ringed with thick, smoky lashes. Dean didn't stand a chance. "Okay, yeah." answered Dean in a husky voice. He approached the bed and pulled back the covers. Castiel lay down and made room for Dean to slide in next to him, close but not touching. The hunter was a furnace radiating heat. They both relaxed and were soon fast asleep.

The next morning, Castiel woke in Dean's arms. He felt warm and safe. His head was resting on Dean's chest, arms wrapped around his waist, their legs tangled together. Cas allowed himself to bask for a moment when Dean began to stir. Castiel pretended to be asleep. He didn't know how Dean would react and he wanted to give him an opportunity to leave without awkwardness. That's when he felt plush lips press to his forehead in a soft kiss. Dean squeezed him a little tighter and gently extracted himself. When Cas heard the shower start, he opened his eyes and smiled. It appeared Dean knew exactly how profound their bond was. He just had to show him that he knew it too.


	4. Ring of Fire

Dean brought steaming plates of cheesy eggs and bacon to the table for Castiel, Kevin, and Crowley. When Dean handed the former angel his plate, their fingers brushed. Electricity jolted through Dean's veins from the light touch. Cas smiled up at him and dug into his breakfast with gusto. Dean was once again taken aback by how beautiful his smile was. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners was adorable. Humanity suited his angel well.

Dean remembered how Cas had looked this morning, sheltered by his body; he had awakened to an arm full of angel and loved every second of it. Castiel had looked so sweet and untroubled in his slumber, Dean couldn't resist pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before easing himself out of bed. Dean shuffled back to the stove and moved the bacon around in the pan, trying (and failing) not to think about how much he wanted it to happen again. There was a shuffling noise behind him. Sam was making his way into the kitchen.

Sammy didn't look well. He was losing weight rapidly and his skin was pale. Dean resolved to make him eat. He wasn't going to wither away under his watch. Sam's facial expression changed from happy to shocked and confused. He had noticed Crowley, eating his breakfast and drinking tea. Sam stumbled over, grabbed his older brother by the elbow and steered him into the privacy of the hall.

"Dean, why is the King of Hell eating breakfast in our kitchen?"

Dean explained what he had done to Crowley while he had been sleeping. Sam paled even further.

"You didn't fucking think to talk to me first, Dean?"

Dean was surprised by the vehemence in Sam's voice. "No, I didn't, Sam. You were sick. Besides what was I supposed to do? Let the King of Hell go waltzing back into the world?"

"Yes," Sam looked freaked out, and Dean was instantly on alert.

"What's going on, Sammy?" Dean asked authoritatively.

"Abaddon showed up during the last trial. Tried to kill Crowley. She wanted to run Hell."

Awesome. Abaddon: Queen of Hell. That's all they needed. "How'd you get rid of her?"

"I molotoved her with holy fire," Sammy said.

Dean laughed. "Did you call her an ass-butt too?"

"Shut up, Jerk."

"Bitch," The brothers laughed together, but quickly sobered. "So, what's the big deal with Abaddon and Crowley?"

"I swear you're deliberately obtuse sometimes. Abaddon has zero competition now that Crowley is out of the picture. Someone has to run things in the pit. She's going to be Queen of Hell. I was just thinking maybe it would have been better to have the devil we know instead of the devil we don't."

"No," said Dean. Sam looked surprised. "Look, Sam, I don't really understand it, but my gut tells me this was the right thing to do. I just have this feeling like Crowley is going to be important. I don't get it, but I trust it. Not trusting your instincts is what gets you killed."

Sam chewed on his lip for a second, like he was considering his older brother's words. Finally he let out a puff of air that blew his hair out of his eyes and said, "Fine. It's too late now anyway. Just talk to me next time, Dean."

"Sure," said Dean. They went back to the kitchen to eat. Sam just pushed his food around on his plate. Castiel drank cup after cup of coffee, and Kevin kept shooting murderous glares at Crowley. They were going to have to do something about the Kevin-Crowley situation. Dean started clearing plates when he heard a loud, wet cough. He turned and looked at Sam. His palm was red with blood. Sam doubled over and started hacking. He stumbled to the trashcan and made it just in time. His shoulders heaved and he vomited what little he had managed to eat.

"Sammy!" Dean dropped the dish towel he was holding and moved to his little brother. Sam swayed, so Dean held him upright while he dry heaved over and over. When he looked up, he was sweaty and so white he looked transparent. Dean guided him to a chair to sit. When he turned Castiel was standing next to him, holding a glass of water. "Drink, Sam."

Sam drank gratefully, eyes closed, hands trembling. "Thanks, Cas," he whispered.

"It is no trouble, Sam." Castiel looked into Dean's eyes. His hunter seemed afraid. Cas wanted to reach out and brush his fingers over the crease on Dean's forehead. He always got it when he worried about something. But Castiel didn't know how Dean would react.

The best he could do for now was to help Sam. Castiel pulled one of Sam's muscular arms over his shoulder, supporting him. Dean seemed to get the message and did the same on the other side. As a team they guided Sam down the hall to his bed, supporting his weight. By the time they made it the youngest hunter was almost completely unconscious. Dean guided his head to the pillows, and stared at his brother's face.

"Dean," said Cas, "We need to begin research. That is the best way we can help Sam now. "Dean just kept looking at his brother like he was afraid he would never see him again. The fear written on his hunter's face was heart breaking. Cas would do anything for Dean to never look that way again. Castiel reached up and touched the other man's face gently, turning him so he had to look at him. Dean relaxed and leaned his face into Castiel's palm, sighing. His eyes were closed and the crease that Cas hated vanished. He brushed his thumb gently over Dean's cheekbone.

Both men's breathing deepened and sped up. Dean's eyes opened; the sight made Cas' mouth go dry. They were half lidded, dark emerald green ringed with thick lashes. The cinnamon dusting of freckles on his cheekbones stood out in contrast to the lovely blush spreading across his face. Cas took a step closer. He may not know exactly what to do with his desire, but this seemed like a good place to start. He could feel the welcoming body heat radiating off of Dean's body in waves. Dean's pupils were blown wide with lust. Cas leaned in closer to press their lips together; Dean's eyes fluttered shut. Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart when Sam let out a loud snore. They leapt away from each other guiltily, like teenagers caught kissing.

"We should go to the library," blurted Dean, his face aflame. He turned to leave, but not before he saw the disappointment on Castiel's face, or the evidence of the former angel's arousal straining at his jeans. He left the room, his head spinning. It looked like Cas felt the same as Dean; maybe this could work. Dean felt hope flare in his chest. He felt confident enough to make his move. But first they had to fix Sam. Sammy always came first.

Dean banged his head down on the table in the library, groaning loudly. Castiel didn't look up from the Latin scroll he was reading, but he did nudge the hunter with his foot. Dean grumbled, but took his cue and kept digging through his book on Wiccan cleansing rituals. Crowley and Kevin were also reading through dusty tomes. Things were a little easier between the two of them now. Crowley had called Kevin out of his room yesterday. They had sat and talked for about an hour. Dean had no idea what was discussed, but the former demon and the Prophet were on speaking terms and working together now, which was a vast improvement over the glaring and awkwardness.

They had been in the Men of Letters library for three days, and had a big steaming pile of nothing to show for it. Sam was getting worse every day; he couldn't even get out of bed except for a short trip to the bathroom. They had to find something soon, or Sammy wasn't going to make it much longer. The thought made his blood run cold; Dean dove back into his book, redoubling his efforts.

Castiel suddenly sat up straight, his muscles tense, reading with complete concentration. "Cas?" intoned Dean. Crowley and Kevin eagerly looked up from their books.

"I believe I found something, Dean," said Cas excitedly.

There was silence for a few moments; finally Dean couldn't take it anymore. "You want to elaborate, Cas?"

"This is a ritual called the Purificato per manum Dei. It's ancient; It must be performed once daily for seven consecutive days."

"Why seven?" asked Dean.

"Seven is the number of days it took God to form Creation. We have most of the things we need for the ritual. The rest we can find fairly easily. But there is risk. There is a chance Sam won't survive this, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes and thought. Right now there was a one hundred percent chance that Sam was going to die. This would at least give them some hope of him surviving; however, it wasn't his right to make this decision for Sam. He would have to choose, but Dean needed to know everything first. "What's the risk? What could happen that makes this dangerous?"

Castiel furrowed his brow in concentration. "It is rather unclear. From what I can see, it is completely effective if the subject survives. The text says the subject of the ritual will be completely cleansed of any evil, whether it is physical, spiritual, or mental. Those touched by the ritual are touched by the hand of God and purified through suffering. It doesn't specify what kind of suffering, but I gather that the suffering is what had killed subjects in the past. It's vague, but it is the only thing that we have found that is powerful enough to cleanse demon blood from a person's body."

"Good enough for me. I gotta go talk to Sam. See if you can round up the stuff for this, okay?"

Dean walked off to Sam's bedroom and the others scattered around the bunker to round up the needed materials.

Castiel stood up straight, dusting chalk off of his hands and examined his handiwork. A complex symbol was drawn on the ground; a circle with elegant symbols and sigils from the earliest days of Christianity. It was quite beautiful, full of twisting spirals that flowed like waves in an ocean. They surrounded an elaborate crucifix in the center of the array. In front of the elaborate design was a fire-pit that Dean and Crowley had built; the ingredients had to be thrown into an open fire. Sam was carried by Dean into the middle; he was so frail it was scary. Castiel may not pray anymore, but he hoped with all his heart that Sam would make it through.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," said Dean.

The hunter helped Sam bathe his skin in a mixture of olive oil, sage, and lavender to cleanse him externally.

Dean walked over to the fire pit and filled it with Palo Santo, a holy wood from Peru. At the same time, Castiel walked around the sigil on the floor, spilling a circle of holy oil on the edges. He poured a little of the sacred oil on the branches and Dean lit them with a match. Castiel began to throw ingredients in the holy fire: feather of an angel, holy water from the river Jordan, salt from the Dead Sea, pure iron, and desert sage. When the final ingredient was thrown in, the fire changed from orange flame to pure white. Castiel took his cue and picked up a bundle of braided sage and lavender dipped in the oil of an olive branch, placing one end in the circle of holy oil. The former angel carefully placed the other end of the bundle in the fire pit. The sage instantly caught fire, lighting the circle of holy fire around Sam.

The ring of fire around Sam was beautiful. The light flickered all around him, making him look angelic. Sam gave a little nod and Dean began the invocation.

"Manu Dei omnipotentis solium tuum de cælis, et ad fidelium animae puer attigit. Imple eos puram, suffundens caecae lux." Sam began to sweat; his eyes flickered and rolled into the back of his head.

"Transi ab iis omne immundum, omnis impius influance omnis infectio per mentis et spiritus et sanguis. Expélle eos daemonum suorum." His body bowed and he began to writhe.

"Munda cor eorum ceciderunt et pura et munda sit. Marcus hanc materiam vestris, o Deus, fortis, et auferam de omni angustia. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti." Sam let out a scream that went on and on. The fire came to life, whipping around his body in a raging inferno that touched him without burning him. Sam's eyes flew open and the holy fire went out in a gust of wind that suddenly swirled around the room. Dean ran for his brother and was stunned by what he saw: Sam was sweating blood.

"Sammy?" Sam let out a moan. Dean reached out to touch his broken little brother. He brushed his hair out of his face. Dean hauled Sam into his arms and took him to the shower. Sam couldn't stand on his own, and Dean bathed him like a child then carried him to bed. When he was asleep and Dean looked down at himself, he was covered in blood. He started to cry, head against the wall. Like a flash, Castiel was there, his guardian angel was still watching over him. Dean just looked into his beautiful blue eyes for a moment before tears once again blurred his vision. The next thing Dean knew, he was in Cas' arms. Dean broke down; he couldn't handle the thought of losing Sam. Cas just held him close, so strong and warm, arms wrapped around his waist. Dean returned Castiel's embrace and Cas held him until his tears dried up. Cas led him to his bed where he collapsed. When his angel turned to leave, Dean grabbed his wrist. "Please, stay."

Cas didn't say anything he just climbed into the bed and held Dean. The hunter's last thought before slipping into a dreamless sleep was that this wasn't even close to over. There were still six more days.

This ritual was worse than Hell for Dean. Every day Sam had to endure a new horror; the next time Dean had spoken the invocation, Sam had been thrown around the circle, beaten by an unseen force. The bruises and broken bones were horrific. On the third day, an array of puncture wounds and gashes appeared on his brother's forehead before he was engulfed in the flames that never burned him. After they cleaned him up, careful of his broken arm, and put him to bed, Castiel pulled the other men into the kitchen. They all poured a tumbler of whiskey and drank deeply, except for Cas. The former angel said, "I know now what is happening to Sam. I believe he is suffering from stigmata."

"Stigmata?" asked Dean. "You mean God wounds, right?"

"Sam is experiencing the suffering of Jesus Christ. Every day he develops a new wound. This is why many of the subjects of the ritual haven't survived; they weren't strong enough."

Dean closed his eyes tightly. "Is he going to make it, Cas?"

Cas was silent for a moment and said, "I honestly don't know, Dean." The room was silent as everyone drank away their fears.

The next day, Sam was whipped by an unseen force. It had gone on for what seemed like an eternity, lash after lash being cut into his back. Sam had screamed and screamed as the flesh was destroyed. By the time it was over, his back looked like raw hamburger. Dean didn't want to continue after that, but Sam refused.

Sam looked at his older brother through blackened eyes and spoke through the agony of his split lip, lying on his stomach because his back was too damaged. "I have to do this, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam cut him off. "Dean, all my life I've been impure. Even the angels called me an abomination. I'm a freak, and this is going to make me normal. I can finally be normal, Deano. So please, just let me do this."

Dean was going to argue, but Sam was already asleep. He was forced to accept that this wasn't his decision; it was Sam's.

On the fifth day, as the fire consumed Sam's battered body, nail wounds appeared through each wrist. They were huge and you could see straight through them. Sam was weakening. Dean kept watch over him all night. "Just hold on, Sammy," he whispered.

On the sixth day, the nail wounds appeared through his feet. That night, Sam's breathing was a shallow death rattle. Dean drank his way through a fifth of Maker's Mark and passed out. He had nightmares about Sam dying all night, and Castiel woke him and held his shuddering frame as he cried; tears of his own pooling in his blue eyes.

On the dawn of the seventh day, Sam was barely hanging on. Dean carried him to the array and gently lay him down. As he stood, Sam grabbed the amulet around his neck and pulled him down. "If this doesn't end well Dean-"He was cut off as Dean pulled him into a gentle hug. "I know Sammy," he whispered. The unspoken 'I love you' hung in the air between them. They didn't have to say it, they already knew. Sam's eyes filled with tears and he squeezed him tighter. Dean never wanted to let go, but Sam pushed him feebly to make him stand.

"Do it, Dean." Dean gave his Sammy a final squeeze and began the ritual. Dean was finishing the invocation when the final wound was ripped into his brother's battered flesh; a long jagged puncture wound where the spear pierced the side of Christ, now cut into his Sammy. Blood pooled from Sam's mouth and the light began to leave his eyes.

"No!" screamed Dean. He ran for the circle when the fire began to consume Sam. The light was brighter than it had been any time before. The earth began to quake violently. A low pitched noise filled the room; it was so strong, all the glass in the room shattered. A beam of light landed on Sam and he floated off the ground. The fire swirled around and around, getting smaller and smaller. Dean looked on in amazement; every wound Sam had suffered was being healed, skin and sinew knitting back together as if nothing had happened. The fire concentrated into a pulsing ball of light that halted in front of Sam's chest.

Dean felt a hand close around his. It was Castiel. The former angel's mouth was open in shock and awe, and he was holding Dean's hand in a comforting way. Dean tore his eyes away and looked back to his little brother. The light was hovering closer to his chest. His face was lit up and his hair was blowing in a breeze that blew only for him. The ball pulsed with pure energy as it moved closer to Sam. It pressed to his skin over his heart and began to absorb into Sam's body. Sam screamed. There was a shockwave that blasted from around his little brother like a nuke had gone off. Everyone was knocked flat on their backs from the blast wave.

When they looked up, Sam was floating slowly back to the ground, eyes closed. When his feet touched the floor, he collapsed, but Dean was there to catch him. Dean was always there to catch his Sammy.

"Sam?" whispered Dean. The younger man's eyes fluttered open and Dean gasped in relief. Sam looked _well;_ his hair was clean and shining, his skin flawless. He looked as if he had never lost a pound. He was exactly as he had been before the trials. Sam stood up, Dean helping him to his feet. He stretched experimentally and smiled, a huge, face splitting grin.

"How do you feel, Sam?" asked Castiel.

"Good, really good Cas," replied Sam.

Dean looked at his brother's bare chest and gasped. They all noticed at the same time: Sam had a handprint burned onto his chest, like Dean's but larger and stronger. Castiel approached, eyes wide and awestruck, "This is the hand of God, Sam."

They all looked surprised and pleased, but no one looked as happy as Sam. The boy with the demon blood, the boy who had always felt like a monster, was finally pure.


	5. Fix You

Dean watched Castiel field strip his weapon for the third time in a row with pride. His angel's fingers were strong and capable, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reconstructed the gun with confidence; he thought Cas was beautiful.

It had been two weeks since the cleansing ritual had been completed. Sam was doing great; better than Dean could have dared to hope for. It was as if the trials had never happened. There had been zero news on the fallen angels, other than the news reports about the surprise meteor shower. All was quiet, and Dean found it both comforting and ominous.

They had taken this rare lull to teach Cas and Crowley about humanity and hunting. Crowley was starting to worry Dean. He threw himself into training with an intensity that the hunter had never seen before. The former demon had nightmares every night, and drank even more than Dean ever had, even on his worst day. They were going to have to have a talk about the drinking soon.

On the other hand, Cas was shaping up to be a damn fine hunter. He no longer panicked about nightmares and had adjusted to the bodily needs of being human with ease. With his vast stores of knowledge about lore and his centuries of combat experience, his training was more a matter of fine tuning than anything. There was none of the awkwardness that Cas had around people the last time he had tried to hunt. Humanity suited his angel well.

Dean smiled as he watched Cas set the slide back into place and cock his newly reassembled gun. They had been inseparable after the first night of the ritual. Cas had his own room, but every night he stumbled through Dean's door. Dean always pulled back the covers to let him slip in next to him. They would talk about nothing in particular for hours, just learning more about each other before falling asleep around dawn. Every morning they were tangled together like lovers.

Of course they weren't lovers, not yet. They hadn't discussed their obvious attraction to each other; they didn't have to. They could tell what the other was thinking through the loaded looks and innocent touches they exchanged throughout the day. They had gone no further than sharing a bed, but it was obvious that Cas wanted more. So did Dean, he was just trying to figure out how to take the next step. His only long term relationship had been with Lisa, and something had always been missing. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

"GODDAMNIT DEAN!" Sam's shout shattered the peaceful atmosphere and distracted Dean from his wayward thoughts.

Cas looked up in confusion. Dean tried desperately to keep a straight face as Sam came barreling into the room. His bitch face was reaching max levels as he waved his iPod angrily in Dean's face.

"Rickrolling? Really? What are you, five?"

Dean chuckled. "What can I say, I'm young at heart."

"We're not starting that prank shit again, Dean! Remember last time?"

Castiel looked confused. "I don't understand. What is a Rickroll?"

Sam's bitch face kicked up another notch. "He replaced every song on my iPod with the song Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley because he's a dumbass."

Cas mused that in the past, he would have been confused by this act, but not now. Dean had been teaching him about human pop culture. He threw his head back and howled in glee. Sam frowned. "Not funny, Cas."

Cas wiped a tear from his sparkling blue eyes, smiling. "I don't know Sam, I believe the prank was quite humorous."

Sam looked crestfallen that the former angel wasn't on his side. "Sure Cas, take your boyfriend's side."

Castiel just grinned. He didn't mind being called Dean's boyfriend; he wanted to be that anyway. He wanted to be his everything, and hearing it out loud made him happy. He looked over at Dean and saw that he was blushing furiously, his freckles standing out like exclamation points on his high cheekbones. Sam continued with righteous indignation, "Alright, Dean, you asked for it. Just remember that you started it."

Dean smirked. "Bring it on, Moose."

Sam smiled; he liked the nickname the others had adopted from Crowley. It was fitting.

"Whatever. Anyway, Garth called. We have a case."

Dean and Cas perked up with interest at the news. Sam approached the table and spread the file he was holding. "Demonic omens are cropping up all across the country. More than we've seen since the Devil's Gate was opened. We're pretty sure Abaddon has taken over Hell; the bitch is up to something. Everywhere these omens are cropping up, people are showing up dead." Dean and Cas frowned.

"Any connection between the victims?" asked Dean.

"One," said Sam. "All of the victims were entered in the missing persons database within the last five years, then they randomly turned up dead in places they had no reason to be. "

"Any theories?" asked Dean. Sam shrugged his broad shoulders.

"Maybe they were in hiding. Made a crossroads deal and ran when the bill came due, then Abaddon sent demons for them?"

Castiel was shuffling through the file, looking for something.

"Maybe," said Dean, "Seems like a solid theory. We should take off and look for-"

"Dean," Castiel's voice broke. Dean's head whipped around to look at his angel. His beautiful blue eyes were huge and round, his face pale. He was holding a sheaf of photos in trembling hands; it looked like he might be sick at any moment.

Dean was there in an instant, arm around the former angel's shoulders. "Easy, Cas. What's wrong?"

Horror and pain radiated from Castiel's bones. He took a deep breath a spread the pictures on the table. He pointed at a picture of a woman in her mid-twenties with red hair and brown eyes. "This is Aria. She was in a different garrison that specialized in healing," His fingers next traced the picture of a middle aged man. "This is Barnabas," Next came a teenage boy. " And this is Ophaniel, " Each time his fingers touched a picture he rattled off a different name, his eyes filled with infinite sadness.

He watched as Sam and Dean's faces darkened with understanding. "These are fallen angels. The demons are killing them," Cas murmured.

"But why? What's the point?" asked Sam.

Dean looked into Castiel's eyes; that silent communication they shared passed between them and he understood. "Because if we find a way to put them back where they belong, the angels could stop whatever Abaddon's planning. If they're all dead, then it'll be virtually impossible to stop her."

Sam paled. "We have to do something."

"We have to find a way to get the angels back to Heaven," said Castiel looking grim and determined.

"Kevin is working on it," said Dean, "when he knows something, we'll know something."

Sam looked thoughtful. "Is there a spell we could cast to create a beacon in the bunker? The angels could sense it and come here. Then we could protect them."

Dean automatically moved in front of Cas, sheltering him with his body. "No way," he said roughly.

"Why the hell not?" Sam said.

"Why do you think? If they know what happened, then they might want to hurt Cas! You know the angels are dicks! They aren't going to stop to listen to reason!"

Cas placed his hand gently on Dean's arm, stopping his tirade. "Sam, could you give us a moment?"

Sam's raised his eyebrows, but he said, "Sure," and then left the room. Cas tugged at Dean's sleeve as he walked towards his room; Dean followed, confused. Cas closed the door behind them and turned to talk to his hunter.

"Dean, what happened to the angels is my fault-"

Dean started to argue but Cas held up his hands and cut him off. "Please, Dean, just listen. It was my fault. I shouldn't have trusted Metatron. The angels out there are my kin, and this is happening because of me. I have to help them. If they want to hurt me, then let them try. They wouldn't dare while we are granting them sanctuary, but I wouldn't blame them if they did. It's no less than I deserve." Castiel finished, looking at the ground in shame.

Dean reached forward and tilted Cas' chin up so he had to look him in the eye. "Cas if this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I've messed up your life so much. I made you rebel. I wasn't there when you needed me. I've screwed things up for you so much, so don't blame yourself."

Dean thought back to when Cas had gone insane and Hester had told Dean that he ruined everything he touched.

_'When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was LOST.'_

Anger flashed in Cas' eyes. He grabbed Dean by the upper arms and slammed him into the wall, eyes burning. "Stop it! I know exactly what you're thinking, Dean."

Dean started to argue again, but Cas reached out and gripped his left arm tightly over the scar of his hand print. Electricity crackled through the point of contact; Dean snapped his mouth shut, transfixed by the burning intensity of his angel's blue eyes. He couldn't believe that Cas actually knew what he had been thinking. They were so connected it was like mind reading.

"I was not lost when I laid a hand on you in Hell. If I hadn't raised you from perdition, the apocalypse would have happened, and I would have spent eternity as an emotionless robot. I wasn't lost when I saved you, I was found. You saved me, Dean. Just as surely as I saved you."

Dean just watched his angel, green eyes smoldering with barely contained emotion. Cas reached up and traced his cheekbone, making him shiver as he continued.

"You blame everything on yourself. You try to be brave and take the burdens of those you love upon your shoulders. Don't. This is my burden to bear, not yours. I've never regretted rebelling. It brought me closer to you."

His gentle exploration of Dean's face continued.

"Cas," Dean whispered. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve something so good, but he was never letting it go. The hunter's hands reached up, one touching the angel's face, the other resting on his chest. Their faces got closer.

"You think you're undeserving of anything good. That you're a bad person. That's not true."

Dean's eyes were half lidded, his breathing heavy. Their lips were a hairbreadth apart. Dean could feel Cas' warm, sweet breath ghosting across his lips. Their noses brushed.

"Do you know what I felt when I raised your soul from Hell? Good. Pure, untainted good. Your soul was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen or felt, in all my centuries. You're a good man, Dean Winchester. You deserve happiness, and I would fall a thousand times over just to be standing here in front of you in this moment."

Dean's heart was singing. Everything he needed to hear, everything he had ever wanted was right in front of him in the form of this fallen angel. His eyes fluttered closed as they crossed the tiny space between them. Their mouths pressed together softly. Cas' lips were warm and smooth. They broke the kiss, faces inches apart, and just stared. Dean couldn't contain the inferno raging inside of him. He crushed their lips back together, grabbed Cas and whirled him around so that his angel was against the wall.

Cas let out a little moan and wrapped his arms around his hunter, their bodies pressed tightly to each other. When Dean's tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, he shivered and granted him entrance.

Dean tasted warm and wild, like honey and whiskey and clove. His hands were everywhere, touching and roaming. Cas heard needy moans escaping his throat; his heart felt like it would burst through his chest with happiness. If he had known being with Dean would be like this, he would have ripped his own grace out the second he had pulled him out of Hell.

Their tongues tangled in a slow, sensuous dance, tasting and touching like they never wanted it to end.

Dean loved the feel of Cas pressed up against him. He tangled his fingers in downy locks of hair and held him closer, nails lightly scratching his scalp. When he felt Cas' erection pressing into his thigh he went wild. He ground himself into the angel and felt him gasp; their denim clad erections dragged together deliciously. Cas bit Dean's lip and let it slide slowly between his teeth. Dean growled and walked them to the bed.

Cas pushed Dean on his back and straddled his hunter. Their lips found each other again and they kissed as they rocked against each other. Cas was full of heat and sensation and holy shit he needed more right now. His hands roamed under Dean's shirts, making a choked noise when he felt the muscled, sweat slicked skin. He tore his lips away and looked into Dean's eyes. Cobalt blue met stormy green in a look full of devotion and promise; a warrior and his guardian angel pledging themselves to each other.

Cas stroked his face and Dean reached up to grasp Castiel's hips. Their lips were about to touch again when a knock sounded on the door.

Cas dropped his forehead to Dean's with a groan of frustration.

"Dean?" Sam knocked again.

"Be out in a minute."

"Kay." Sam's footsteps walked away from the door. Dean turned his attention back to the angel sitting astride him. His blue eyes were cloudy with lust. His dark hair was mussed up, lips swollen from the intensity of their kisses, his shirt rumpled. There was a tiny freckle on his left cheekbone. It was his only one, and Dean rolled them over so they were face to face on their sides and kissed it softly.

"Dean,"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I want to do this again."

Dean's heart soared. A tiny piece inside of him that had been broken for years mended itself looking at the sincere look of devotion in his angel's eyes. He leaned forward and kissed him again. He tried to pour all of his heart and soul, his pain and heartbreak into that kiss. He tried to let him know that he was fixing him. When the kiss broke they were both breathless. Cas had a look of wonder and joy in his eyes.

Dean held him close and said, "Me too, Cas. Always."


	6. Houses of the Holy

Dean lay still, holding his fallen angel in his arms. He didn't want to get up, but Sam was waiting for them. He held Cas a little tighter and pressed his lips in his soft hair; it smelled like green apple shampoo. He felt Cas plant a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat and smiled.

"Dean?" asked Cas.

"Yeah?"

Cas gazed up at him looking a little embarrassed. Blush was spreading on his cheeks, making his single freckle stand out. He didn't want to ask, but he wanted to know for sure what this meant for them, and he was fairly certain that this was proper relationship etiquette.

"Does this mean that we are... together?"

Dean paused for a beat and then laughed. Castiel's face fell and he looked down, embarrassed. Dean stopped quickly, realizing his mistake.

"Hey, don't look like that Cas. I wasn't laughing at you." He pressed his lips to Castiel's gently, trying to reassure him with his touch. His angel's lips were warm and slightly chapped; they felt amazing. He pulled away slightly to murmur against his mouth.

"Yeah, we're together Cas, if that's what you want."

Cas nuzzled his hunter, happiness blossoming through his body. "It's what I want more than anything."

Dean didn't answer in words. He just pressed their lips together, reveling in the fact that this amazing man was his. They kissed lazily, happy and content until they heard Sam again.

"Dean, come on man!"

They broke apart reluctantly and straightened themselves out as much as they could before leaving the bedroom. When they entered the kitchen, Sam looked them both up and down. He took in their disheveled appearance, eyes dawning in comprehension. Dean shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot until Cas cleared his throat.

"Sam, Dean has agreed to shelter the fallen angels."

Sam's gaze pierced his big brother for a few more seconds before looking away and walking wordlessly to the supply closet for spell ingredients.

Sam, Dean, Cas, and Crowley stood in the same room where they had performed the cleansing ritual on Sam. The fire pit had been cleared out and refilled with logs; there was a table filled with the necessary ingredients nearby. The others stood back and watched as Cas began the ritual.

The former angel lit the fire and began throwing sacred herbs into it, chanting in Enochian.

"GASSAGEN OL OIAD,"

His face was perfectly blank as he focused. He threw a gnarled root into the blaze.

"NOASMI OL OIAD NIIS OD BLANS,"

Cas picked up a knife from the table and cut his palm deeply, wincing at the pain. He held his bleeding hand over the fire, squeezing blood into the inferno and completed the incantation,

"OADRIAX GEMEGANZA OL."

The flames blazed brighter and erupted skyward in a jet before extinguishing, leaving only fragrant smoke behind. Dean was at Castiel's side in a flash, a first aid kit in his grasp, examining his bleeding hand tenderly.

"It is done," said Cas, looking at the others. "The beacon will be effective up to one hundred miles away. It's not as far as I would like, but if any angels are near, they will sense it, and they will come."

"Did you have to cut this so deep, Cas? You're bleeding all over the place." Dean frowned as he tried to staunch the flow of red liquid.

"Sometimes I forget I can't heal myself," said Cas quietly; his eyes were fixed on his hunter.

He watched, glowing with adoration as Dean finished bandaging the cut, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. Sam and Crowley exchanged a look, eyebrows raised; Crowley cleared his throat loudly.

"So, mate, what now?"

Dean flushed at the other's scrutiny. Castiel answered, "We need to make preparations. We do not know if or when an Angel will arrive, or how many will come."

"Right then. Let's hop to it," said Crowley. He and Cas walked out of the room. Dean started to follow, but Sam gripped his arm, stopping him. Cas and Dean exchanged a look; Dean nodded and Cas shut the door gently, leaving the brothers alone.

"So, you and Cas, huh?" Sam cocked his head to the side, watching his brother closely.

Dean's eyes hardened and his chin tilted up in defiance; it was his natural reaction when he felt threatened.

"Yeah. Me and Cas. You got a problem with that?"

Dean was afraid. What would he do if Sam didn't approve? His brother came first, always. How the hell was he supposed to have a relationship he didn't approve of? Sam's eyes filled with an unreadable emotion and he stepped closer. For a second, he thought his little brother might punch him.

Then long arms were pulling him close. Sam was hugging him, warm and firm, full of love and acceptance. Relief crashed through Dean's body and he hugged his brother back without hesitation. They held onto each other, saying 'I love you, it's ok' the only way a Winchester knew how. Sam gave him a squeeze and a pulled away with a manly thump on his back.

"Thanks, Sammy," said Dean in a gruff voice.

Sam looked at Dean appraisingly.

"About time you two got together. If I had to watch you silently eye fuck for the rest of our lives, I might have offed myself."

Dean's jaw practically hit the floor. Sam threw his head back and roared in laughter. Dean tried to keep his look of righteous indignation, but he could never resist it when his Sammy laughed; it was one of the best sounds in the world and it was contagious. Dean cracked easily and laughed with his little brother, their voices echoing together off the walls; it sounded like a symphony of happiness. Dean pushed him out of the room, punching him in the arm as they went. "You're a bitch."

"Whatever, jerk."

Dean rummaged through the DVD's they had stored in the entertainment center. Every night after the others had retreated to their rooms, he and Cas picked something to watch. He had been educating Cas about human movies and TV shows; his angel was turning into a nerd. He even had the wardrobe to prove it.

They had gone clothes shopping for Cas last week. Dean had tried to pick plaid shirts for him, but Cas had other ideas. He had chosen novelty t-shirts. In fact, his love of shirts was getting a little ridiculous. He had a Flux Capacitor shirt, a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy shirt with the words 'Don't Panic' emblazoned on it, a Superman shirt, and a shirt with a velociraptor in a top hat among many others. Today he was sporting a blue one that had Abraham Lincoln wrestling a bear. Yeah, his angel was weird, but he loved it.

He found what he was looking for near the back; a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. He held it up to show Cas. "You wanna?"

Castiel had been stationed on earth for thousands of years, but he had never seen any movies until after his fall; it was forbidden. But now he was human and he could watch them to his heart's content. He nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Dean put in the DVD and plopped on the couch next to Cas.

He was enthralled with the characters and the beauty of Middle Earth. Dean being snuggled to his side made the whole experience even more enjoyable.

His favorite part was watching the love between Aragorn and Arwen. He couldn't help but think of himself and Dean. Arwen was immortal; if Cas was still an angel they would have suffered the same tragedy.

Ever since he had fallen, Dean had spoken of getting Cas' grace back when they found a way to send the other angels home. Now, watching these two fictional characters and thinking of their plight, he wasn't sure he wanted it back. Living without Dean for eternity would be unbearable.

The end credits started rolling and Dean stretched sleepily beside him. Cas absently carded his fingers through his hair. He couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to live forever; his friends would die and he would be alone. No Sam, Crowley, or Kevin, no bunker, no t-shirts... no Dean. A dark feeling roiled on his chest. After a moment he identified it; despair. This was despair. He couldn't stand it anymore. Cas jerked Dean up to look him in the eyes. Dean was surprised, but when he felt the need rolling off his angel in waves, his body came alive with longing.

Then their lips crashed together roughly, teeth clashing together as they fought for dominance. Cas let out a little growl and pinned Dean on the soft cushions below them as he plundered his mouth. Dean let out a groan and rolled his hips up to meet Castiel's.

Cas was lost, awash in sensation, slave to the thrust and roll working between them. He let out another moan as Dean's hands found their way under his shirt and roamed his back. Cas caressed his hunter's face with reverence, fingers tangling in the short spikes of his hair as Dean's hands roamed lower. Dean grabbed his ass and ground their cocks together through the layers of denim. Cas let out a strangled noise of pleasure, ecstasy shooting through his body. This was the best feeling in the world. It felt like being in the presence of something purely holy. So right, like being made clean and whole.

A bit of a song Dean liked popped into his head:

_'Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow, From the houses of the holy, we can watch the white doves go.'_

How fitting, thought Cas. Dean broke the kiss and gazed up at him with half lidded eyes. Smokey jade met the azure of a summer sky, asking, wanting; it took Cas' breath away. Their lips met once more; Cas had just begun pulling off Dean's shirt when the alarms started sounding.

They froze; part of the preparations made earlier in the day was to cast a spell on the perimeter. It was set to go off if any fallen angels came near the bunker. They sprang up from the couch at the same time Sammy, Crowley, and Kevin came running into the room pulling on clothes. Dean ran for the wall and started taking down shotguns loaded with rock salt.

"Kevin, stay here," he said firmly; the Prophet nodded. Dean tossed an angel blade to Cas, Crowley, and Sam. Cas twirled it around his fingers expertly; they didn't want to kill any angels, but these blades also killed demons. Better safe than sorry. Dean grabbed Ruby's demon killing knife and they ran to the front entrance.

Sam and Crowley put their backs on either side of the door guns raised. They all exchanged nods before Cas pushed open a door and Dean burst out. He swept his weapon from left to right, making sure it was clear as Cas covered him. When he waved, the others filed out looking around at the landscape for anything out of place.

A shout sounded in the night; as one, the boys sprinted through the darkness looking for the source of the noise. When Cas saw the cause, he stopped short in anguish; it was Joshua, the gardener from Heaven. He was on the ground, groaning. There were four demons surrounding him, beating him mercilessly, eyes pure black.

They overtook the demons before they knew what hit them. Sam plunged the angel blade straight through its heart. Dean ducked a blow and put the demon killing blade through the skull of his foe. Crowley and his target were nowhere to be seen. Castiel let out a scream of rage and gutted the abomination still hitting Joshua. The demon was gurgling blood, but he still managed to spit out, "Doesn't matter. The Queen will destroy them all."

Cas felt his face twist in rage. He plunged the blade through the demon's eye socket and the filth died in a burst of orange light.

Sam picked up an unconscious Joshua and carried him to the bunker hurriedly. Dean approached Cas and grabbed him roughly, looking him over for injury.

"Are you hurt?" His eyes were blazing. All the angel could do was nod. Dean pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly. If anything had happened to Cas...

His thoughts were interrupted by Crowley saying, "A little help, boys."

They broke apart and looked over. Crowley had a cut lip, a black eye, and a dislocated shoulder. With his good arm, he was dragging the last demon; it was unconscious and bound with their demon handcuffs. Cas and Dean immediately walked to him.

"Why didn't you kill it?" asked Dean.

Crowley looked grim. "We need information. You wanted to know what Abaddon was up to; well Merry Christmas boys."

They exchanged grim looks and dragged the demon into the safety of the bunker, closing the door behind them.

Castiel and Dean sat side by side in the infirmary watching over Joshua who was sleeping peacefully. A muffled scream rent the air; Crowley was interrogating the demon in the dungeon. Dean was going to do it, but Crowley had stopped him.

Dean had tried to argue, but Crowley had simply said, "I apprenticed under Alistair too, mate. I can get the information just as well as you can. Only difference is that you don't deserve another blemish on your conscience. I do. I won't live long enough to care anyway."

Dean had been stunned into silence, but let the former demon go after popping his shoulder back into place. He had been at it for three hours; the demon must be one tough bastard. Dean and Crowley really needed to talk. He didn't like hearing him talk about dying. What was the moron planning, suicide? He wasn't sure, but he needed to find out.

Castiel's fingers threaded through his, making him lose his train of thought.

"It is going to be okay, Dean." His angel's voice was quiet, soothing.

"I know," said Dean quietly. He leaned close to Cas, resting his head on his shoulder. They sat, unmoving until Sam entered the room.

"Guys, Crowley needs us."

They all walked to the dungeon together. When they entered, the sight before them was horrific. The captured demon had been worked over with chilling precision. Crowley was covered in blood; his face was a mask, but his eyes held infinite sadness and self-loathing.

"No more, no more, please, I'll talk. Just no more." The demon was pleading, it looked terrified.

Crowley leaned forward, holding the knife point in front of its eye. His similarity to Alistair sent dread coursing through Dean's veins. "Tell you what, mate. I'll make you a deal. Just tell them what you told me, and I won't hurt you anymore."

The demon let out a sob, nodding. Crowley motioned for the others to come closer. "Tell them," he said, voice hard.

It looked up at them, eyes flashing pure black. "The Queen wants the angels dead so no one can stop her plan."

"We know that already. What's the plan?" demanded Dean roughly.

The demon swallowed and whispered, "She's after the Horseman's rings. She's going to release Lucifer and Michael from the cage."

The room was dead silent, but it felt like the world was crashing around them. Everything they had worked for had the potential to be undone. Sam was white as a sheet.

"Why?" asked Castiel. For a second it looked as if he had forgotten he lost his mojo. His tone said, 'I am an angel of The Lord. Tell me, or I will destroy you.'

The demon shrank in its chair and answered, "The angels are cut off from the mother ship. That means Michael is powerless. Lucifer gets his power from Hell, and let me tell you, our Queen is making it burn hotter than ever. When she releases them, Michael has no hope of winning."

The demon's eyes flashed black again and it smiled. "Our sides gonna win. I can feel it. And just as a precaution, we're killing the other angels off. You can't send them home to power Heaven if they're all dead. There is no hope for you." Its eyes flashed back to normal. "Now let me go. You said you wouldn't hurt me if I told you."

Crowley bent down to eye level and said, "I'm not going to hurt you, mate. I'm going to kill you." Without any further warning, he plunged the demon knife into its throat, eyes burning. The scum gurgled, eyes bulging before dying in a crackle of orange light.

Crowley pulled out the knife and wiped it clean on a towel as he left the dungeon. The others followed him into the kitchen where they each poured a tumbler of whiskey and drank deeply.

"Why can't these sons of bitches just leave it alone?" demanded Dean suddenly. "I mean, how many times do we have to derail the fucking Apocalypse?" Cas squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

"What are we going to do?" asked Sam. He looked afraid. The apocalypse had cost him so much the first time around. He obviously didn't want to tangle with Lucifer again.

"I'll tell you what we're going to do," started Crowley, "we're going to stop the bitch."

"How the hell are we going to do that?" said Dean.

Cas looked thoughtful. "We have several distinct advantages this time, Dean. Michael and Lucifer haven't been released yet. We scattered the horseman rings. Even if she found those, she would still have to take Death's ring to complete the key, and Death will not become slave to Lucifer again if he can help it."

"Okay, fair points," said Sam, "but we can't take the chance that she could get ahold of the rings. We need to get the angels home."

"Kevin is working on it, but right now we've got nothing, Sammy. There's gotta be something else." Dean chewed on his bottom lip as he thought.

"There's another way," said Crowley. His voice was quiet; Dean didn't like it. The idiot must be about to do somehow stupid. Dean knew that look, he had worn it himself more than once, but he listened intently.

"We could close the Gates. Seal Abaddon and every other black eyed bitch in the pit."

Everyone stared at the former demon like he was insane.

"I don't understand," said Cas, "the trials kill the person who completes them. Who would do such a thing?"

Dean knew the answer before Crowley said it. The former demon raised his head, looked Cas in the eye and said, "Me."

There was dead silence. "Crowley," started Sam.

"No, Moose. Just don't," a sheen of tears covered his eyes before he blinked them back. "I've told you before I don't deserve mercy for the things I've done. If it wasn't such a meaningless gesture, I would have put a gun in my mouth the second Dean uncuffed me. But that's pointless." He looked at Dean and continued. "You told me before that I had the chance to atone for the things I've done. Do enough good to balance the bad. Well, this is my chance."

Dean was speechless. "We can't let you do this," said Sam quietly. Crowley looked amused.

"You can't 'let' me do anything, Moose. Fact is, this is my choice. Kevin already told me what the trials are. He taught me the spell. I'm going to do this, with your blessing or without it. This is my choice, so help me, boys."

They were all silent for a few moments. They exchanged looks and nods before Dean opened his mouth and said, "Okay, man. Not like we've got much of a choice anyway."

Crowley grinned. "Damn right you don't."

They all drained their glasses in unison. "We'll worry about it tomorrow, boys. Get some sleep."

Everyone said goodnight and headed to their rooms. Cas tangled his fingers with Dean's. They closed the door behind them and kissed gently; they were too exhausted for anything else. Both men stripped to their boxers and slid under the covers together.

Dean pulled Cas into his arms, spooning him. Cas leaned back into Dean's warm chest, loving the feel of strong arms holding him. He felt safe. He snuggled closer as Dean sleepily burrowed his nose into Castiel's fragrant hair. Their legs twined together, and Cas was soon fast asleep. Dean pressed one last kiss onto his angel's neck before falling over the edge of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Paradise

Cas woke from a pleasant dream he couldn't quite remember and rolled over, yawning sleepily. He froze when he caught sight of Dean sleeping in bed next to him. He stared, transfixed by his beauty. His hunter looked so innocent in his slumber, his face smooth and unlined, lips swollen and slightly parted. It should be illegal to be that gorgeous. Dean put even Lucifer to shame, and he was the most beautiful of God's angels. Looking at the way Dean's hair stuck up and fell over his forehead, at the dusting of freckles sprinkled on his cheekbones, Cas was filled with awe that this man belonged to him. He couldn't resist pressing a reverent kiss to his soft, sweet lips.

The first thing Dean felt as he rose through the fog of sleep was warm pressure against his mouth. His eyes opened in surprise and his vision was full of Castiel. All he could see of his angel was his eyes; they were closed, long lashes casting shadows across his defined cheekbones as he kissed him sweetly in the first light of the dawn. Electricity jolted through his blood, leaving fire in its wake. Dean let out a moan and eagerly returned the kiss; it was sloppy and sweet and without a doubt the hottest kiss of his life. The fact that it was Cas, his Cas, kissing him made it a hundred times better. Their tongues twined together in a sensual dance as Dean wrapped a strong arm around Cas' waist and pulled him close. The angel's fingers tangled in Dean's short hair and tugged gently as the hunter's free hand traced Cas' face, worshiping him with his touch.

Cas was awash in a sea of sensation. So many feelings were rushing through his body at once; he didn't recognize them all, but each one was exhilarating and wonderful. He knew Dean was letting him decide how far their physical relationship would go. They had always been interrupted until now. Well, Cas was done with that; his body was burning, and he needed Dean to soothe it. He wasn't sure exactly what to do, but he had a general idea. He took the hand that was resting gently on Dean's chest and trailed it lower, tracing the muscles of his toned stomach and then lower, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his cotton boxers.

Dean felt Cas' large hand wrap firmly around his cock, making him shudder as sparks shot throughout his body. He opened his eyes and looked at Cas; his cobalt eyes were dark with desire, and ringed with thick, long lashes. His lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, hair mussed up. The combination of innocence and raw sexuality on his angel's face took his breath away. Then Cas moved his hand, stroking up the shaft and Dean let his head drop back to the pillows as a stream of profanity escaped his lips. He reached out to Cas, one hand tracing his face, the other gripping his protruding hipbone.

Cas' face was flushed, his eyes wild as Dean slipped his hand into his angel's boxers and touched him. When he felt Dean's large hand wrap around his girth and begin moving, he let out a strangled moan; it was unlike anything he had ever imagined. Dean touching him was like fire and ice burning his skin, like the galaxy was imploding around him, like time stopping. There was nothing like it. Molten fire raced through his veins in an inferno he couldn't control. He started moving his hand in time with Dean's. When Dean ran a finger across his slit, he shuddered and did the same thing, letting the hunter teach him what to do with his touch. He watched, fascinated as Dean shivered and buried his face in Cas' shoulder. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Dean was so big in his hand; he could barely get his fingers closed around him.

Dean's hands found the waistband of his angel's boxers and pulled them down his legs, carelessly tossing them aside; his own followed close after. He kissed Cas deeply, slipping his tongue into his mouth. He tasted sweet, wild, and clean, like honeysuckle; it was intoxicating. Dean sat up in the bed, never breaking the kiss and hauled Cas up with him. He rested in a sitting position, back against the headboard and guided Cas into his lap so he was straddling him. Cas attacked Dean's mouth and neck savagely, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, tugging his silky hair in his hands as the hunter wrapped a large hand around their combined girths and began to stroke.

Dean gasped at the feeling of Castiel's fingers twisting in his hair. The sensation of their cocks sliding together was going to kill him. It was so intense; there was no way he was going to last long, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Cas looked as if he was coming apart at the seams, head thrown back, throat working as he swallowed, face flushed. Dean stroked them faster, electricity shooting through his limbs, charged and heavy. Cas began to tremble and Dean wrapped his free arm around his waist, rubbing the sweat slicked skin of his back soothingly. Cas reached out and closed his hand over his mark on Dean's arm.

"Cas," Dean moaned.

His head smacked into the wall as he threw it back. His arm burned at the touch, like it was a point where their souls could touch as freely as their bodies were touching.

Cas was gasping, "Dean. Dean, please."

He didn't even know what he was asking for, but he knew he needed it; he would die without it. Something was building deep inside of him. He was on the edge, so close. Dean moved his hand faster around them, unable to close it completely around their combined width. Cas moved his free hand down and held his hand around Dean's, helping. Castiel looked deep into the eyes of his hunter, green and smoldering, asking, wanting.

"Please, Cas," Dean's voice was deep and wrecked and Cas was lost. He was close to the edge of a cliff, about to sail over. Then Dean kissed him, slow and deep and he was undone. His last thought before his orgasm ripped him to shreds was, _'This was worth falling for.'_

Then he was incoherent, calling out Dean's name as ecstasy burst through his body, shattering him to pieces. He was falling through time and space and it was unlike anything Cas had experienced. Better than flying, better than the swirl of his grace inside of him; it didn't even come close. He shuddered as he came, white ropes shooting into the space between their moving bodies; it was paradise on earth.

Dean groaned and planted wet, desperate kisses into his angel's neck, sucking and leaving hickeys in his wake. Cas was still coming, chanting, "Dean, Dean, Dean," over and over like it was a prayer. That was all it took for Dean to join his angel. He cried out as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, punching all the air from his lungs. He was free falling through the air, burning like he was flying next to the sun. They stilled and held onto one and other as they came down, shivering as they worked through the aftershocks. Cas rested his forehead against Dean's and looked into his eyes, sapphire blue meeting mossy green. The angel moved and gently kissed Dean's forehead. "Good morning," he murmured.

Dean laughed happily. Cas tilted his head smiling, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Good morning yourself," Dean said, still snickering.

"You know what happens to men who laugh at former celestial beings?" asked Cas seriously.

"Nope."

Cas leaned forward and whispered in Dean's ear, "The most fearsome wrath of Heaven descends upon that man."

Without warning, Cas pushed Dean flat on his back, pinning his hands with his knees and began to tickle him mercilessly. Dean laughed and struggled, but not too hard; he was watching the way his angel's hair stuck up in every direction, and the way his sparkling blue eyes crinkled with happiness and glee. When Dean's sides hurt and he had tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks, he rolled, reversing the position so Cas was on his back. He squirmed and chortled as Dean flexed and wiggled his fingers menacingly over his belly. Cas' laughter sounded happy and beautiful like the sweetest song ever sung, and Dean couldn't resist. He kissed his angel sweetly and Cas returned the kiss, slow and deep. They would have to get out of bed and clean up soon, but for now Dean was content to kiss his angel as the sun rose completely and painted their body with stripes of soft light through the shutters.

Dean grunted as he heaved another shovel full of dirt out of the grave they were digging and flung it over his shoulder. Sam was laboring by his side, covered in sweat and dirt just like him. The hole was still shallow, only knee deep.

They were laughing and joking like they hadn't in years. What happened in the church had to be one of the best things that had ever happened to Dean; it had brought he and Sammy closer together. There was no more hurt between them; only forgiveness and love. Dean tuned back in to what Sam was saying.

"I stand by what I said, Dean. Jet Li could kick Chuck Norris' ass. No contest."

Dean snorted in disdain. "And I stand by what I said, Sammy. It's not about skill and fancy Kung Fu moves; it's about who's the bigger badass. Chuck Norris could destroy Jet Li, and there would be explosions in the background too. Big ones."

Sam scoffed and lightly punched his brother's arm. Dean punched him back and soon they were laughing and roughhousing in the dirt like they were kids again. Dean trapped Sam in a headlock and mussed up his overlong hair. Sam took advantage of his position and poked Dean in the ribs where he knew he was ticklish. They fell to the ground, laughing and wrestling.

It may be weird to normal people that they were horsing around in a mass grave dug for the bodies of demons, but it wasn't weird to them. They weren't exactly normal anyway. They play fought like children until they were tired and covered in dirt, then they just lay together, side by side and watched the clouds moving overhead, just like they used to watch the stars at night from Baby's hood. The world may be almost ending again, but Dean believed, in that moment, that everything was going to be okay. He had Cas, and he had his Sammy. He had a real home, and he would be damned if he would give up without a fight. Dean touched the amulet around his neck and smiled. He had faith now. Faith in himself, in Sam, and in Cas. Everything was going to be fine.

Cas sat in the infirmary with Crowley, watching over an unconscious Joshua. Crowley looked relaxed and more at peace than he had since his transformation from demon to human. Cas stood, picked up a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls, and began to clean the gashes on Joshua's face, lost in thought.

"Crowley," he said quietly.

"Yeah, Cas. What is it?"

"Are you sure? About the trials?"

Crowley was quiet for a while, looking out the window. Cas began to think he wouldn't answer, but he finally said, "Look out the window, Cas."

Castiel walked over and looked out into the sunshine. He saw Sam and Dean wrestling around in the still shallow grave they were digging. They were laughing, happy. It made Cas' heart swell with joy.

"That's why I'm sure, Castiel. That's why I'm doing this; for them."

Cas tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. Crowley sighed.

"Those boys gave me my humanity back. I've hurt their friends and done my damnedest to kill them on more than one occasion, and they still took me in."

Crowley had a faraway look in his eyes as he continued.

"They gave me a chance when most other people would have just killed me. They stopped the apocalypse and the Leviathan and saved the lives of every person in the world. They are good at the deepest level of their beings. I'm not, but I have the chance to be good."

He took spoke with utter conviction and surety.

"This is atonement, and if I don't do it, who will? One of them will end up sacrificing themselves for the greater good, and they don't deserve to have to do it again. They don't have to carry the world on their shoulders alone. They've given enough. I can do this. I want to do this for them, so they don't have to."

Castiel looked out the window and watched Dean muss Sam's hair up, a big smile on his face. A million memories flashed through his head at once: Sam and Dean, laughing, crying, fighting, playing, bleeding, and sleeping. A million images of brotherly love and peace and conflict. He remembered it all, from cataclysmic events like pulling Dean from Hell and Sam jumping in the pit, to simple things like arguing over movies and drinking together in bars. He remembered, and he knew deep in his bones that Crowley was right.

He took a deep breath and said, "They have given enough… But you are my friend, and I don't want you to go," Crowley looked surprised and pleased as Cas lay his hand on the former demon's shoulder. "But I understand, and I will be there for you until the end, my friend if this is what you want."

"Thanks, Cas," said Crowley quietly.

Cas acted on impulse and hugged the former demon tightly. Crowley hesitated for a second before returning the embrace. They held it for a few moments before pulling away, holding each other at arm's length. Cas was embarrassed by the display of emotion, so he mimicked Dean.

"Uh, let's roll credits on this chick flick before we grow female gentiles."

Crowley looked bemused for a moment before roaring in laughter. "You've been spending too much time with Dean, angel."

"Not an angel, Crowley."

"And you're okay with that?" asked the former demon.

Cas thought about this this morning with Dean, about how amazing it had been. A huge grin split across his face. "Yeah, I'm okay with it."

Sam, Dean, Cas, and Kevin all sat around the tables in the Men of Letters library. Sam was on his laptop; everyone else was digging in books trying to find some sign of a crossroads deal that was about to come due. This trial wasn't easy for them the first time around. In fact, it had been a fiasco trying to find who the hell hound was targeting. They wanted something a little easier this time, but so far they had found no sign of a deal.

Crowley came strolling through the door. "What are you lot doing?" he asked, leaning against the frame with one shoulder.

"Looking for a deal so you can kill the hell hound," said Kevin, turning the page of a dusty tome.

Crowley started laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Sam.

The former demon tilted his head. "Did you forget that I was King of the Crossroads, Moose?" I know every deal ever made and their due dates. It's seared into my brain."

The others gaped in irritation. "You mean to tell me," said Dean, "that we spent the last four hours researching for nothing?"

"Precisely," said Crowley. Dean chucked his book at Crowley's head; he dodged it deftly, laughing again.

"Goddamn it," muttered Dean, disgruntled. Cas slipped his hand into the hunter's and squeezed, smiling brightly. Dean couldn't stay irritated when Cas smiled like that. He found himself grinning against his will.

"So," said Cas, "any ideas about where we're going?"

"Yes," said Crowley, "Donald McKiernan, age 36 in Kansas City, Missouri. His bill comes due in two days' time."

"What'd he sell his soul for?" asked Dean

"His little sister was gunned down in the crossfire of a drive by shooting. She was only six years old. He sold his soul to bring her back and make everyone forget she had died."

Dean looked at Sam and felt his heart drop into his stomach. He remembered the raw horror when Sam had died and his desperation when he sold his soul for him. He found that he didn't blame this man at all for what he did. Cas squeezed his hand tighter as if he knew exactly what Dean was remembering. He rubbed soothing circles onto the back with his thumb and Dean leaned closer to his angel, thanking him with his touch.

"Sounds like a plan," said Sam. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow," said Crowley, "we need to gather up some supplies. Goofer dust, salt, and we need some of those eye glasses that you used."

"We still have them," said Dean.

"Okay," said Crowley, "Sam and I will go for the goofer dust. Kevin, you're on salt duty. Dean, you and Cas find the glasses. Let's go."

Everyone split up to their rooms, preparing to leave. Dean and Cas exchanged a look; Crowley barking orders was kind of funny. Hands still joined, they headed to the storage room where they had stowed the glasses after the first trial. When they made it in the room, Cas abruptly spun Dean around, pinning him to the storage cabinet. Their lips crashed together. Dean was taken aback, but kissed his angel back enthusiastically. Cas murmured against Dean's lips, "We've been busy all day. I missed you."

Dean whispered, "Me too, Cas." His hands trailed down his angel's back to his waist, pulling him close. Their lips met again, kissing roughly, tongues swirling together in a carnal dance. Dean suddenly pulled Cas flush to his body, grinding their cocks together through the thick fabric. Cas was on fire; he let his hands wander lower, grabbing Dean's muscular ass in his hands, squeezing, using the leverage to start a rhythm.

Dean groaned and pushed his hands under Cas' shirt, feeling the bare skin. Cas ground into him harder and Dean involuntarily raked his nails down the angel's back. Cas let out a choked noise at the sensation. Dean grinned and did it again. Castiel growled and started biting and sucking the hunter's neck. Dean wanted more; he started to pull his angel's Doctor Who t-shirt off when a loud banging sounded on the door. Both men let out a loud groan of frustration. Dean put a hand on the back of Castiel's neck and pulled him close, resting their foreheads together.

"If I could, I would smite whoever that is. We're always getting interrupted," Cas growled indignantly.

Dean smiled sweetly, nuzzling into his neck gently. Cas shivered as his hunter's stubble dragged over his skin. "We'll pick this up later, angel."

Cas frowned. "Not an angel, Dean."

Dean planted a soft kiss on his lips. "You'll always be my angel, Cas."

Castiel's smile was blinding. They straightened themselves out and went to the front of the bunker as another loud knock echoed against the walls. They both grabbed shotguns off the wall as a precaution and approached the entrance. Dean started talking as he opened the door.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on a se-"

As the door swung open, Dean stopped short, mouth open in shock. There, standing on their doorstep, was Death. He was slurping a Big Gulp noisily and holding a stack of pizza boxes. Death smiled slightly nodding at them. "Hello, Dean."

_What the hell?_


	8. Oh, Death

Dean heard a clatter behind him as Cas dropped his shotgun in shock. He felt his own mouth gaping open as he tried to process the sight before him. _Death. On their doorstep. Why the fuck was Death on their doorstep?_

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked Death, irritation breaking through his smooth voice.

"What are you doing here?" said Dean, ignoring the question. Death struggled to balance the boxes with one hand as he replied.

"I'm here to help pull this little ball of rock back from the brink again. Now invite me in if you want my help, Dean. And take some of these boxes for God's sake."

Dean took the pizza, stepped aside and waved him in, but Death didn't move.

"You have to say it out loud. This little bunker is warded against….well, pretty much everything. I can't come in unless I am invited," he said.

"Fine, come in," said Dean.

Death swept gracefully over the threshold, looking around appreciatively. When his back was turned, Dean and Cas exchanged bewildered looks and followed him to the table.

"Well, Dean, don't be rude. Call the others. I brought this for everyone. It's from Chicago," Death's lips twitched like he was holding back a smile as he gestured to the boxes, "I recall you enjoyed the pizza when we met in that little parlor."

Dean got his wits about him enough to call for his brother. "Sammy! Get your gigantor ass down here and bring the others!"

Dean turned to face the being before him; Cas started to sit and Death said, "Stop, Castiel!"

Cas tilted his head in confusion as Death eyed Dean reproachfully. "It is impolite for you to not pull out your partners chair when he sits, Dean."

Dean blushed furiously, his freckles standing out wildly on red cheeks, but he pulled out Cas' chair. His angel sat, also blushing, but smiling a little at the sentiment.

They were all seated awkwardly at the table when they heard shuffling footsteps in the hallway. Sam and Crowley were laughing and shoving each other; Kevin was riding piggyback on Sammy. They had really bonded lately, but when his brother caught sight of their dinner guest, he stopped in his tracks and dropped the kid.

"Ouch!" shouted Kevin. Crowley looked up, caught sight of Death in the kitchen and went white as a sheet. Kevin clambered up from the floor, eyeing Death wearily. "Who's that?" he asked.

""Pleasure to meet you, Kevin Tran. My name is Death."

"Death, like the Horseman of the Apocalypse?"

"Precisely."

Kevin just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay," before coming to sit at the table. Everyone looked at him like he was insane. "What?" he said, "When you've spent as much time in this family as I have, nothing spooks you anymore."

Dean's heart swelled; Kevin had come so far since they had first met. The fondness he felt for the kid was akin to what he had felt for Ben, like he was gaining a son; an overgrown geek son, but a son nonetheless. Death broke his straight faced protocol and smiled toothily at the Prophet. Sam and Crowley slowly approached the table.

"Sit," said Death, "please eat."

When everyone was seated, the Horseman snapped his fingers. Plates from the cabinet appeared on the table, laden with the food, and a bottle of beer popped into existence in front of each man. Everyone stared at it for a moment before Death spoke.

"For God's sake, I'm not going to smite you. This is getting awkward; eat."

Everyone around the table let out a shaky laugh and dug into the deep dish supreme pizza; it was delicious.

"Now," said Death as he chewed slowly, "We have a rather large problem, as I am sure you are aware. Abaddon is actively trying to release Michael and Lucifer from their cage. On top of that the angels have fallen."

Castiel looked down in shame at the mention of his fallen brothers and sisters. Dean reached under the table and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Cas returned the pressure and gave a small, sad smile. Death turned his fathomless dark eyes upon the former angel and said, "It wasn't your fault, Castiel. Not this time. Purgatory is a different story altogether, but this was Metatron's doing. You are not to blame."

Cas looked surprised but nodded gratefully. Death continued speaking. "Abaddon has found War's ring. She is looking for Famine's, Pestilence's, and mine as we speak."

At the news that Abaddon had one of the rings, everyone at the table balked. "Wait," said Dean, "why are you telling us this? Why help us?"

"I will not be enslaved to a bratty child throwing a fit again," snapped Death, "Stop questioning my motives and listen!" As he spoke, the lights began flickering. His features were hard and the temperature dropped rapidly in the face of his irritation. Everyone quickly apologized; Death's face softened again. The lights stopped and the temperature was returned to normal.

"Now," he said, "As I was saying, I will not be enslaved to Lucifer again. I will help as much as I can to stop this."

"Why not just gank Abaddon?" asked Dean. Death leveled him with a glare, and he hastily added, "uh, sir," to the end of the sentence.

"Because there are rules to the universe that I can't break; when I was bound and was forced to bend them look at what happened: earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions. If I breached them, it would start a chain of natural disasters that would devastate your little planet. So I'll help you the only way I can: by assisting you with the trials."

Everyone started when he mentioned the trials. "How did you know?" asked Cas.

"I am absolute, everywhere and everything. I know many things; how I know them is none of your concern. Rest assured that no one else is aware of your plan."

The men pondered his words for a moment before Crowley spoke up. "I understand that you want to help, mate, but what can you do? The first trial is slaying a hellhound. Short of zapping us to the place where the poor bloke who made the deal lives, how can you help?"

"I won't be helping with the first trial. You can handle that on your own. I will be helping you with the second trial. You'll need my help to free the innocent soul from Hell. After what happened to Ajay, there are no more rogue reapers to take you there; they've all fled. You should summon me when it is time to complete the second trial. Just call my name, and I will come. Now, I suggest that you begin thinking about who you want to free from hell."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look; they knew exactly who they wanted free, but they would wait until it was closer to time to mention it. They still had to make it past part one.

"What about the angels?" asked Cas, "can you send them back home?"

"No," said Death. He looked regretful, but firm. "That's God's territory, Castiel. I cannot interfere."

Cas looked disappointed; Kevin looked at him and said, "Don't worry, Cas. I'm working on it, and I think I may be getting close to something." Cas nodded gratefully.

Death stood, brushing crumbs from his jacket. "I must be on my way; I have reapers to command. Goodbye, Dean. I expect we will meet again soon." He paused, glancing at Castiel's t shirt. "Nice shirt by the way, Castiel. I am quite fond of the Doctor." With a swish of his coat, Death vanished and they were alone once again.

The silence in the room was almost painful for a moment. Then everyone said "I need a drink," at the same time. As one, they made their way to the liquor cabinet and downed a tumbler of whiskey each, laughing at the audacity of their situation.

Dean looked over at Cas, watching him closely. After Death had left the bunker, they had made the final preparations for their journey tomorrow morning. The atmosphere in their home was tense and oppressive, so they had watched The Two Towers to try and lighten the mood. When the film was over Cas had become moody and brooding. Dean wanted to cheer him up so he took him for a ride in Baby. They were parked in an empty field in the middle of nowhere, watching the stars from the hood of the car. His angel radiated tension and stress. Dean wasn't sure what to do, but he wanted to make it better. "Cas, is everything okay?" he asked.

Castiel's shoulders started shaking; he was crying. Dean didn't hesitate; he just pulled his angel into his lap, cradling him in his arms.

"Hey, shhh, Cas, what's wrong?"

Cas cried harder, clinging to Dean like his life depended on it. Dean just rocked his gently, softly kissing the tears from his face.

"Dean, I can't lose you," Castiel's hands tangled in Dean's shirt, clutching him tightly.

"Not going anywhere Cas, I gottcha,"

Cas let Dean hold him as he cried. They had watched the next Lord of the Rings movie. Elrond's prophecy was still ringing in his ears. It was as if the elf had outlined his entire future if he took his grace back; it was everything he feared most. He let the words float around his head again:

_'You will still have to taste the bitter sting of mortality. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death, an image of the splendor of the kings of men in glory, undimmed before the breaking of the world. But you, my daughter, you will linger on, in darkness and in doubt. As nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief, under the fading trees, until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. There is nothing for you here; only death.'_

It was a perfect description of his own personal hell; to live unchanging as the world crumbled around him and his friends passed into oblivion. As Dean died and left him forever. He couldn't do it. If there was any doubt in his mind before, it evaporated as he was cradled in Dean's arms. He would never take his grace back, he couldn't do it. He listened to Dean whispering comforting words into his ear, and he realized that he didn't have to despair over it: he had a choice. He had free will, and it was thanks to his hunter and his brother and all the sacrifices they had made. His tears dried up and he met Dean's eyes. He wanted to touch him, to assure himself that they were still here, that they were still human and together.

The way Cas was looking at him made Dean's heart pound; his eyes were smoldering sapphire, his hair illuminated in the silvery moonlight, the lean lines of his muscle pressed against his own body as he held him close. He had relaxed against him, his tears dried. Dean wasn't sure exactly what had upset his angel, but he was going to erase it and he knew just how to do it. He rolled his body so that Cas was on his back, pinned underneath him on the hood of the car.

He looked down at his angel, eyes luminous with starlight and claimed his mouth with a searing kiss. It was slow and sweet and gentle. Cas let out a little gasp and Dean took the opportunity to slip his tongue into his sweet mouth. He tasted every inch with reverence, claiming him for his own. Cas whimpered under the assault of Dean's skilled mouth, his hands cupping his hunter's cheeks as he held him close.

Then Dean captured his bottom lip and let it slide slowly from between his teeth; it sent shivers racing up Cas' spine. The kiss changed from sweet to smoldering hot. Cas moaned and canted his hips forward, trying to find some relief; he was unbearably hard and heavy in his jeans. Dean trailed him mouth lower, down his neck, sucking bruises onto his throat. When his teeth nipped at the sensitive patch of flesh behind his ear, Cas let out a needy whine. Dean chuckled and moved lower; his hands found the hem of his angel's shirt and tugged it over his head, throwing it unceremoniously away. Cas tried to sit up and take off his hunter's shirt, but Dean pinned him back to the hood, the metal cold against his heated flesh. He pawed fruitlessly at Dean's chest. "Off, get it off. Please."

Dean chuckled again and pulled all the layers of his shirts off over his head in one smooth movement. Then he was back on top of him, kissing Cas' chest, scraping his teeth over his collar bone. Cas closed his eyes and let himself float away on the sea of sensation Dean was stirring in his body.

When Dean took a nipple in his mouth and lavished it with his tongue. Cas' head smacked the windshield as he threw it back in ecstasy. It was too much and not enough all at once. Dean took the other nipple between his fingers and pinched it lightly; Cas couldn't hold back a cry, it felt so fucking good. He would never get over how amazing it felt to be with Dean; nothing was better.

Dean abandoned his nipples and continued his journey south, nuzzling the soft smattering of hair on his belly that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Dean kissed and nipped at the cut of muscle around his jutting hipbone and he unbuttoned his pants. Cas felt his hunter grasp the waistband of his boxers and jeans and pull them slowly down his legs, leaving kisses on the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Cas looked at Dean, standing shirtless before him, jeans slung low on his hips, illuminated in the incandescent light. His green eyes were shining as he looked down at Cas like he was a priceless work of art. "So beautiful," he murmured. Cas shivered with want.

Dean moved close again and started kissing back up his thighs, retracing the path he took on the way down. Cas was expecting Dean to make his way back to his mouth. He was in no way prepared when he felt the hunter's warm breath ghosting over the head of his cock. His eyes sprang open and Dean gently nuzzled the length of his dick. Slick pre come burbled from the head; he was so hard it was painful.

"You're gonna love this, angel. Gonna make you feel so good."

Cas didn't know what his hunter was planning, but he trusted him. Dean looked up at him, eyes smoldering as he slowly licked up the length of his cock, twirling his tongue around the head, tasting him as he sealed his lips around his thick girth. Cas gasped; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Electricity shot through his veins, blood boiling as Dean took him slowly deeper into the wet heat of his velvety mouth. Cas let out a choked groan and fisted his fingers tightly into Dean's short hair. His hips involuntarily tried to thrust forward, but Dean had his hips pinned to the hood of the car. His hunter let out a moan, the vibrations traveling down Cas' length, making him feel like he was spiraling out of control. Dean hollowed his cheeks around his dick and started bobbing his head, taking him deep until he could feel the head of his cock tapping the back of his throat. Cas shouted out in ecstasy, one hand scrabbling for purchase on the hood of the car.

Dean sucked harder, lavishing the head with attention, running his hands soothingly up and down Cas' thighs. He slipped his tongue into the slit, groaning as the sweet taste of angel erupted onto his taste buds. Cas felt himself writhing under Dean, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His body was on fire, burning in the inferno that was Dean. He started begging, "Dean, please, don't stop. Oh, fuck, please, Dean, please."

Dean's head started working faster, teasing the sweet bundle of nerves under the head. One hand reached between his legs and began to roll his balls around in his hand, massaging him. Cas was hurtling toward the precipice at light speed. Molten fire was curling in the pit of his stomach, his body tightening like a spring. Dean moaned around his length and that was it. He was undone, pleasure firing through his body like a lightning storm, bursting through his entire being as the stars wheeled overhead in the night sky. He cried out, coming into Dean's mouth; his hunter took him all the way to the back of his throat and swallowed every drop, moaning as if it were the best taste in the world.

Dean let his softening cock slip out of his mouth and kissed his way softly up Cas' chest to his lips and the cool night breeze swirled gently around them. Cas slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth and tasted himself. His hunter moaned and Cas felt his erection pressing at his hip, painfully hard. Cas pushed Dean on his back and opened his pants, freeing him from the confines of the rough denim.

Dean let out a choked moan as Cas wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke; pleasure burst through his body, ebbing and flowing like a tidal wave. God, it felt so good. He was so hard it hurt, the taste of angel still on his lips. Cas sped up, setting a fast, rough rhythm and Dean had to choke back a scream. God he loved this. He loved the way Cas looked at him while he did this, he loved the way his hair stuck up wildly, he loved what his hands were doing to him. He loved Cas. Fuck, yes, he was in love with Cas. The wave inside of him was reaching cataclysmic proportions.

"Castiel, fuck, Cas," he moaned and then he was coming, spilling over his angel's hand as the wave inside of him crested and broke. Lights dances behind his eyes and his head spun in ecstasy as he screamed Cas' name. He lay on the hood of the car, utterly spent. Cas dropped his head to his hunters shoulder and nuzzled his softly.

"Dean?"

"Hmmpphh,"

Cas smiled fondly at him. He got up, found a clean towel in the backseat, and used it to clean Dean and himself up. He got dressed as Dean tucked himself back into his pants. Cas pulled his shirt over his head and threw Dean his. When they were both dressed, Cas clambered sleepily onto the hood next to Dean. The hunter opened his arms and Cas snuggled in, resting his head on his chest, letting Dean hold him close, relishing the feeling of strong arms around him and lips in his hair as he drifted slowly to sleep.

Dean held his angel close, kissing his downy locks softly. Cas was dead to the world; he didn't feel it when Dean began to run his fingers through his hair, or when his thumb began stroking his shoulder. He didn't see the smile that was plastered on Dean's face. He didn't wake when Dean lifted him to carry him to the passenger seat so they could go home, and he didn't hear it when Dean whispered the biggest admission of his life softly into the night:

"Love you, Cas."


	9. Ghosts That We Knew

_Fire and ash swirled around Castiel in a thick, suffocating cloud as he descended into Hell. Down, down, down he plummeted, hurtling headfirst into the pit. His large wings were tucked tightly against his body as he rocketed downward. His brothers and sisters covered him from all sides, slicing and smiting their way through the army of demons that stood between them and their target. They had been fighting their way through Hell for a week._

_Despite the heavy combat surrounding him, despite the fact that he had lost five members of his garrison already, Castiel remained cool and calm. He was completely emotionless, his face a mask of serene indifference as he used an angel blade to cut down the abomination in front of him. He did not concern himself with the human souls screaming out for mercy all around him. He was on a mission, and he intended to complete it. His orders were simple: save the Righteous Man._

_He saw the bottom of the pit approaching and signaled his charges to form a barrier above him, blocking the demons from the target. Castiel flared his wings out, slowing his decent. He flapped them, causing great gusts of wind to blow from his body disturbing the mounds of ash and bone lying on the filthy floor as he touched down. As he walked forward the shadows surrounding him dispelled, fleeing to the corners of the room, unable to come into contact with the grace swirling inside of him without being destroyed. _

_A heavy gate blocked his way; it was made of bone, bound with strips of flesh, and draped with human entrails. Castiel waved a hand and it simply ceased to exist. The sight before him made him stop short. He had been alive for millennia; he had seen the birth of creation, the rise and fall of nations, miracles so tiny and fleeting that they could be said not to have happened at all, and still, nothing he had seen in his entire existence compared to the sight before him. _

_Dean Winchester's soul had been in Hell for four decades. They were aware that they were too late, that the first seal was already broken, so the sight of the Righteous Man torturing a weeping boy is not what stopped him in his tracks; it was his soul. It should be severely damaged, flayed around the edges, humanity beginning to bleed away, but it wasn't. On the surface, his face was hard, a mask designed to intimidate and inspire terror, but underneath his soul shone, visible only to Castiel. _

_It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, so bright and pure it hurt to look at. It was swirling inside of him, despairing that it was being forced to hurt another human being. On the surface, Dean Winchester believed himself to be truly evil, but Castiel saw past it, and all he could see was goodness and the conviction that this was worth it if it meant his brother was alive. _

_A monumental explosion expanded in his chest, and for the first time in his existence he felt emotion; he was in awe of the radiance before him. He had no idea what he was feeling, and that thought didn't scare him as much as it should. He would not let the Righteous Man stay in this place for a moment longer. _

_Before he could step forward and make himself known, three hellhounds appeared out of nowhere, snapping and growling at the man before him. Dean jumped back in terror; considering the way he had died, it was no shock that he was afraid of them. A sudden rush of protectiveness coursed through his veins. He willed himself through time and space behind the dogs. He grabbed two by the head, smiting them as he slammed them to the ground. The third charged, and he grabbed it by the throat in midair, destroying it. The Righteous Man spun around wildly, his face filled with fear._

_He approached wings spread wide. "Dean,"_

_"Who are you?" he asked. Castiel noticed his eyes were green, like the emeralds mined from the mountains his father had shaped. He began to back away, but Castiel reached out and grasped his left arm firmly in his, stopping him. The feeling in his chest exploded again at the simple touch._

_"Do not be afraid. I'm Castiel. I'm here to take you home."_

_"No, I mean what are you?"_

_"Deep down you already know."_

_Dean looked on in awe as comprehension dawned on his face. He reached with his free hand and touched Castiel's wings._

_He reached for the swirl of his grace and began melding together the connection between Dean's soul and his body, healing as much of his damaged spirit as he could, knitting the skin and sinew of his body on Earth back together as the connection solidified. Dean looked on in amazement. Castiel felt it again, stronger as his grace reacted to Dean's proximity. He could feel the Righteous Man's soul through the point of contact. It was even more dazzling to the touch than it was to see. Pure love was radiating off of it in waves. _

_Castiel gripped his arm tighter, beseeching him. "Come with me, Dean."_

_Dean looked into his eyes, and Castiel felt something inside of him shift and change forever when he nodded yes. His wings spread out and he pushed off from the ground, shooting upward like an arrow, carrying the Righteous Man by his arm; he relished the connection between them. His garrison opened the way and followed him as he ascended, slaying any demon that dared to get too close. _

_A light shone brightly above them; they were almost out. As they approached, Castiel looked down into the Righteous Man's shining green eyes and felt his stomach swoop; he didn't understand why, but he didn't mind it. _

_Castiel finished repairing the Dean's soul, and in a heated, reckless moment, he branded Dean as his own to protect. He would bear his mark for the rest of his life. The angel's hair blew back in the breeze as they flew into the warm light above them. He put on a final burst of speed that would take them out of Hell, and as he broke free he shouted his triumph for all to hear. He screamed it with his mouth, his mind, his grace, from every fiber of his being, and it came out in four words: __"Dean Winchester is saved."_

Cas gasped and sat upright in bed. The sheets were coated in sweat and twisted around his legs. A dream, it was only a dream. Well, more of a memory, actually; the memory of raising Dean from perdition. He sank back down into the pillows and rolled to find his hunter sleeping next to him. Cas wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, holding him close as he remembered the dream. He recalled the feelings spiraling through his grace as he flew, dragging Dean behind him. Now that he was human, he could identify the emotion easily; love. Cas had been in love with Dean from the second he had laid eyes on him. He grinned in the dark and nuzzled into Dean's neck, inhaling his familiar scent.

He was so in love it hurt, but he was waiting to tell his hunter. Dean didn't deal well speaking about feelings, and Cas didn't want to scare him off. So he would wait until Dean was ready to hear it, no matter how long it took.

Dean snuffled in his sleep, so Cas rubbed soothing circles into his skin. Still his hunter was restless, so Castiel began whispering to him in Enochian words of love so profound they had no meaning in English. He relaxed, and Cas felt himself drifting. He needed sleep; they were leaving for Kansas City in the morning to complete the first trial. As he descended back into dreams, he whispered into his hunter's hair, "OLANI HOATH OL, Dean."

Castiel and Dean sang happily to Kansas at the top of their lungs as they drove through the sprawling suburban streets. Sam reached from the passenger seat and switched the radio off, earning him a glare from the singing men; Crowley ignored them all and stared pensively out the window. Kevin wasn't with them; he had stayed behind to watch over a still sleeping Joshua.

"What the hell, Sammy?" said Dean in irritation.

"What? It was too loud."

Cas peeked his head around the seats from the back to scowl at Sam. "One does not simply turn off Kansas."

Dean grinned hugely. "You heard the man, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam slapped Cas' hand away as he lunged forward to turn it back on. "We're here anyway. And enough with the Lord of the Rings references, Cas. You're turning into a bigger nerd than Dean. And your shirt collection is getting seriously out of hand." He meant to sound bitchy, but he was grinning as he gestured to the angel's Star Wars t-shirt.

"I like it," said Dean with a scowl to his brother.

"Good for you, Jerk. We're here."

"Bitch," mumbled Dean as he parked the Impala by a mailbox that said McKiernan on it. The house was like all the others: two story, white picket fence, all American suburbia. There was nothing special about it except what would be visiting it tonight.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," said Crowley, eager for what was to come. They all got out and shut the doors with a satisfying metallic creak. Dean opened the trunk and unloaded the duffels containing their supplies: goofer dust, salt, shotguns, and shells along with the demon killing blade.

Dean knew there was no time to lie to the man and scope out the joint. They would just have to tell the truth about why they were here and hope he listened. Worst case scenario, they would tie him to a chair in a protective circle, but he wasn't dying; not on his watch.

They rang the bell and waited. Footsteps could be heard on the other side before it swung open. The man who answered was in his mid-thirties with dark hair and kind brown eyes. "Can I help you?" He spoke with a soft Irish accent.

"Donald McKiernan?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, who's askin'," said Donald nervously.

"You didn't happen to stop by a crossroads about ten years ago, did you Donald? Maybe you met someone with red eyes?"

The color drained from Donald's face. He dropped his head and gripped the door frame tightly with a trembling hand. "So, it's time is it? Well I'm ready. Take me," he said.

Castiel reached out to touch the man's shoulder. "We're not here to hurt you. We're here to save you."

Donald's head shot up, hope flaring to life in his eyes. "May we come in?" asked Cas.

"Sure, just... please help me." He beckoned them all over the threshold and looked nervously up and down the street before closing the door firmly behind them.

"A hellhound?" Donald looked from Sam to Dean to Cas and back again as if hoping someone would laugh and it would all turn out to be a big joke.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," said Sam softly. Dean offered the man his flask and he took a deep pull with a shaking hand.

"Sir, where is your sister now?" asked Cas. Dean smiled at his angel. Cas was focused and sincere and the fact that he wanted to make sure there was no one to get caught in the crossfire of this fight was awesome. Actually, everything about Cas was awesome, because he loved him. God that felt good to think about. Cas was perfect and he loved him. Donald speaking broke him from his daydreaming.

"My sister's name is River. I sent her to a friend's house for the weekend. I didn't want her to be here when…" he broke off, looking faint.

"That's good, Donald. We're going to help you, don't worry," said Dean reassuringly.

"You must think I was stupid for making that deal, but she's my sister. Our parents were gone and she was all I had." Tears started streaming steadily from his eyes. "She was so little and she didn't deserve it. River was my responsibility. It was my job to look after her, and I fucked up. I just couldn't let her die," he trailed off, lip quivering, eyes haunted with the memory of his sister being gunned down.

Dean felt his heart twist in sympathy; he remembered when it had been his Sammy that was hurt, when he had been the one who screwed up. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as the bitter memory overtook him completely.

_"Whoa, whoa, Sam. Sam! Hey! Come here. Let me look at you." His hand touched his baby brother's back, and when he pulled away it was stained red. So much blood, Sam was losing too much blood. His mouth was stained with it. _

_"Hey, look at me. It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!" _

_His brother's head was lolling, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He had to keep him awake. "HEY, listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay?" His hands cupped the sides of his face, willing him to be alright. "You're gonna be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you. I've got you. That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sammy!" _

_Sam slumped into his arms, completely still. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. "No. No, no, no, no. Oh, God." His baby brother was motionless in his arms and he wasn't breathing. He was gone and Dean howled his agony into the night. "SAM!"_

Cas was there in an instant, his hand warm and reassuring, snapping him out of the memory. He leaned down and whispered in his ear, "It's okay, Dean. Look at your brother. He's standing in the kitchen. He is alive and well, and all of that is over. It's okay."

Dean took a shaky breath and looked at his brother; he was too tall, his too long hair, his ridiculous puppy dog eyes happy and full of life. His breathing evened out as Sam smiled at something Crowley said. Sam was alive. It was going to be okay. He squeezed his angel's hand in thanks before turning to Donald. "I don't think you're stupid. I know why you did it. I would have done it too."

He didn't tell Donald that he _had _done it because he didn't want him to know that they had failed to save him and he had gone to Hell. The poor dude didn't need that. Nevertheless, Donald's eyes sparkled in relief that someone understood. Dean stood, filled with determination to save this man.

"Crowley," he called. Crowley and Sam came into the room looking expectant. Dean looked at the former demon. "This Is your party, man. How do you want us to play it?" Crowley looked surprised that Dean was relinquishing control, but took it in stride.

"Alright, boys. We need goofer dust lining the inside of that closet and in front of the door; Donald will be safe in it. We need salt at every window and door except the front. We'll use the salt to funnel the hound into this room and fight the bitch here."

They all nodded in agreement, impressed with Crowley's plan and got to work. Salt was laid at every window and door except the front. The hall was lined with it, so it only had one way in, funneling it to the living room. Donald went in the closet at 11:55. They loaded their guns with rock salt, and Dean relinquished the demon killing blade to Crowley before they all put on the holy fire glasses that would enable them to see the hound coming.

As the clock struck midnight, growling started in the entryway of the room; the lights flickered and went out. Their heads whipped around to see a spectral black dog made of shadow and blood standing in the doorway; the hellhound had come. It started barking viciously, broken yellow teeth barred, gleaming wickedly in the moonlight.

In the split second before the fight began, there was dead silence; it was almost peaceful. Then the dog charged sending furniture crashing around the room. It was heading straight for Cas; Dean and Sam fired a shot at the same time, catching it in the shoulder and the gut. It yelped and changed course; it was heading for Sam. It knocked the gun out of his hands and sank its teeth into his shoulder. Sam shouted in pain and Dean fired off another shot, hitting the hound in the back. While he was reloading, Cas fired off his shells. Still, the dog bit down harder. Any more pressure and iit would snap the bone.

Crowley forsook his gun and charged the hound with the knife. He jumped onto its back; the dog immediately let go of Sam and started bucking wildly, snarling, trying to throw Crowley off. Dean rushed in to help his brother while Cas took careful aim and fired at the hound again. Crowley raised his arm and made to plunge the blade through its skull, but it bucked hard enough that the blade flew out of his hand and clattered to the carpet. Cas dove for the knife; he grabbed it and rolled out of the way before he could be trampled by the rampaging beast. Dean grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him out of harm's way.

"Are you hurt?" Dean bellowed.

"No! Take care of Sam, I have to get to Crowley!"

Dean nodded and squeezed his arm before turning his attention back to Sam's shoulder. Cas rolled to his feet and dashed for his friend who was clinging on for dear life to the hound's back. Their eyes met, and a silent communication passed between them. Cas threw the knife and watched as if it were moving in slow motion as Crowley deftly caught it. The hound finally succeeded in throwing him over its head, pinning him underneath its body. It snapped viciously at his face; the former demon caught it and held it at bay by the throat.

With his free hand, he plunged the knife into its gut and ripped it forward, its blood cascading down upon him like baptismal waters. As he bathed in its blood, Crowley looked beautiful and terrifying, like a man struck with a divine message to be shared with the world. It could have lasted for a second or an eternity, Cas wasn't sure. Then Crowley was pushing the carcass off of him and standing up slowly. Cas rushed to help Sam to his feet; he seemed fine. The angel turned his attention to Dean.

"Are you oka-"

He was cut off by a noise. They looked over to Crowley. He was covered in blood, his head was thrown back, maniac expression on his face, his body bathed in moonlight as he shouted his bloody triumph to the heavens. Crowley looked fierce, and in that moment, they didn't know whether to feel awestruck or terrified.

Crowley, Castiel, and Dean stood around the kitchen table, a bowl of the hellhound's blood in front of them. Sam was in the living room helping a shaken Donald clean up the splintered furniture. He was going to make hex bags for Donald and River to go on the run with. When the gates were closed, they would call him and let him know that it's safe.

"Are you ready?" asked Cas.

Crowley nodded, pulling a piece of paper from his bloodstained coat pocket. He looked it over for a moment, set it on the counter, and then recited the spell. "CANA OM DARR."

Crowley dropped to his knees shouting in pain. His arm began to glow with light that flashed between colors so quickly it was difficult to decide which one it was. His face twisted in distress, and Dean moved to help him, but it was already over. Just as quickly as it had started, it had finished. "I'm alright, mate," he said softly and Dean helped him to his feet. "I'm alright."

They said their goodbyes to Donald and loaded up in the Impala. "Dean, you look beat. Let me drive. My shoulder hurts too much to sleep anyway," said Sam. Dean was surprised, but he tossed him the keys.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Crowley made to open the passenger door, and Dean stopped him confused. "What are you doing?"

The former demon scowled. "I just completed the first trial. I think I earned shotgun. Besides, don't you want to sit with your angel?"

Dean blushed, but took the point, letting Crowley slide into the front seat next to Sam. They took off; the lines on the highway flashing by in the dark were hypnotic. Cas pulled on his arm, and he was too sleepy to protest. He slid down in the seat, resting his head in the crook of Cas' neck. He felt his angel carding long fingers through his hair; he thought about telling him he loved him, whispering it into his neck, but he didn't want to do it half asleep.

Cas held onto his sleeping hunter tightly. He was happy in a bitter sweet kind of way. The first trial was done, they all survived, and they were going home. Losing Crowley would be awful, he didn't even want to think about it, but maybe it would be smooth sailing to the end. What could possibly go wrong?

Abaddon paced, back and forth along the grass. She had taken another vessel; a pretty little redheaded hooker. She had already done things to the whore's body that she could never have imagined in her worst nightmares. The demon laughed cruelly in the night, relishing the young girl's screams inside of her.

But she wasn't here to dick around like this; she had a purpose. One of her hellhounds had gone missing. Upon investigation, she had found the slain body at an empty house, drained of blood. That wouldn't have been so bad, but she had found a paper with a few words of Enochian on it laying on a counter, and those words had made her scream into the night.

Someone had undertaken the trials; the Winchesters. Their stench had been all over the house. Oh, she couldn't wait to get her hands on Dean and make good on her promise to rip his pretty, green eyes out. It did throw a wrench in her plan to put the Apocalypse on the rails though. She couldn't very well release her master if she were locked in the pit forever.

She was a Knight of Hell, the elite, one of Lucifer's chosen soldiers. But she was the last of her kind, and she needed backup to take the Winchesters. That's why she was sulking around Stull Cemetery in the middle of the night. This was the place the Winchesters had sealed Lucifer in his prison. The last place the cage was opened was where the connection between she and Lucifer would be strongest. She dropped to her knees and opened the personal link between a Knight of Hell and her Master.

"Father,"

_"My child,"_ the words whispered in the night. She shivered perversely, aroused at his voice. The temprature plummeted, freezing the plantlife around her solid,

"The Winchesters have undertaken the trials. I need help. What am I to do?"

_"I have chosen another Knight to join your ranks. He still needs to be pushed over the brink, but when it is done he will hunt the Winchesters down. He will hunt them as relentlessly as an attack dog that scents blood."_

Abaddon cocked her head, eyes flashing black. "Who father?"

An evil, ominous laugh rumbled from the cage. She threw her head back and laughed with him as a name resounded through her head. Yes, he would be _perfect._


	10. Look At You

Dean stirred in the backseat of the Impala, his face pressed flush to his angel's neck. He breathed in the heady scent of sweat, cinnamon, and clean laundry; it was intoxicating. Cas was inhaling deeply, his breaths blowing the Hunter's hair back and forth in gentle puffs of air. Dean stayed as he was for a moment, confused as to what had awakened him. Then he heard a series of wet coughs from the front seat. He untangled himself gently from Castiel, so as not to wake him and leaned into the front seat.

Crowley was coughing loudly and without a break. Sam leaned over and rummaged in the glove box for a second. When he resurfaced, he had a handful of napkins which he handed over to the former demon, his face tense with concern. Crowley promptly buried his face into the tissues, hacking. Sam reached over with his free hand and patted his shoulder, speaking words of comfort. When Crowley resurfaced, his lips were stained with blood.

"It's happening faster than it did last time," said Dean softly.

Crowley looked back at the Hunter, a small smile crossing his mouth. "These trials purify you, remember? Sam was never all that impure, despite what he thinks of himself," Sam looked over at the former demon, his eyes shining gratefully at his friend's words. "I on the other hand, have done some bad things. And that's putting it mildly. It's no surprise that I would react at a different rate than Moose over here."

They were silent the rest of the way back to the bunker, trying not to think about what was to come. When they pulled into the drive, Sam looked over at Crowley. "You don't have to do this, man. It's not too late to stop."

The former demon looked over at the hunter with sadness in his dark eyes. "Yeah I do, Sam. I can't stop now. I'm sorry." He gave Sam a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before getting out of the car and heading to the front door. Sam made a choking noise, his shoulders shaking. The effort it was taking him not to cry was taking a toll on him, and Dean honestly understood.

He was also having a hard time with the concept that Crowley would be gone. In the last weeks since he had become human, they had gotten attached to him; he was their friend, but the former demon and Sam were the closest.

Dean had made a lot of friends recently. Castiel, Charlie, Garth; Sam was also friends with all of them, but they just weren't as close to him as they were to Dean. It wasn't right that his little brother's first meaningful relationship with someone in years was going to be cut off. Sam was going to have to bury another friend and it just wasn't fair.

Dean didn't take any more time to reflect on the situation; he locked his own feelings of loss and grief and injustice away in the back of his mind where he wouldn't have to examine them. He was more concerned with Sam's shaking frame. After all, that was rule number one in his book; watch out for Sammy. He reached out and touched his brother's good shoulder. Sam looked up at him, his eyes desperate for reassurance, just like when they were kids. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

Those five little words rolled in the space between them, and Sam visibly relaxed. He didn't question it, didn't care whether Dean could be sure or not; it was going to be okay just because Dean said so, and Sammy always trusted his big brother.

Sam nodded and gave Dean's arm a small pat. "Thanks."

The hunter smiled and gave his brother's shoulder a small squeeze. "No problem, kiddo. Now let's go get some sleep before you pass out in the car and I have to drag your gigantor ass inside."

Sam grinned and got out of the car. He brightened when he saw Kevin waiting for him in the entryway of the bunker. Dean smiled as he watched Sam haul the kid over his shoulder, spinning him around, laughing like a fool. It warmed Dean's heart to know that even after Crowley was gone, Sam would still have Kevin.

He clambered out of the backseat and walked around, to open Cas' door. His angel looked so peaceful that Dean couldn't bring himself to wake him. He bent down and scooped him into his arms. Cas grumbled a little in his sleep before snuggling his face into Dean's chest and letting out a soft snore. Dean chuckled as he carried him to their room. He turned the covers down with one arm before settling Cas down. He took his angel's shoes off before throwing the cover over him. Cas pulled them up to his chin and curled into a ball, snoring peacefully.

Dean smiled at his angel before tiptoeing to the bathroom. He had gotten hellhound blood in his mouth and wanted to brush his teeth before bed. When he was done, he rinsed and looked into the mirror. He made a face to look at his handiwork, and as he caught sight of his reflection, he froze. Dean stared at himself for a whole ten seconds before moving. Green. His teeth were fucking green, which meant Sam had put something in his fucking toothpaste. He thought about shouting, but he didn't want to wake the others.

He stomped off to his brother's room and flung the door open without preamble. Sam was getting ready for bed, stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. He looked up at his brother in confusion as he approached him. "Dean?" He didn't get anything else out because Dean had tackled him to the floor, pinning him down. "Dean, what the fuck?" hissed Sam. In answer, Dean bared his teeth. Sam took one look and started wheezing with laughter, trying not to be too loud. "Oh, Jesus Dean, you weren't supposed to brush your teeth till morning."

The hunter's face twisted in rage, but Sam just laughed harder; green teeth weren't very intimidating apparently. "You think this is fucking funny? Why would you do this, Sam?"

Sam smirked. "Remember when you screwed with my IPod? Well consider this vengeance. Told you I would get you back." Dean thought back; that had been a couple weeks ago. He had just assumed that Sam had forgotten, but no. He had been waiting for Dean to let his guard down before striking. That little shit. Without thinking, he grabbed Sam by the shoulders and slammed him into the floor, not violently; just enough to rough him up a little. He remembered his brother's injured shoulder a second too late.

Sam's back hit the ground and Dean was immediately apologizing, removing his hand from the injured flesh. "Oh shit, Sam I'm sorry. You alright?" Dean expected Sam to gasp in pain, flinch, something, but nothing happened except the look of confusion that clouded his hazel eyes. "Sam?"

Sam looked astonished. "It doesn't hurt." He scrambled off the floor and pulled his shirt off and looked in the mirror. They gasped at the same time; where the hound had bitten, almost deep enough to graze the bone, there was nothing. The skin was smooth and fresh as if it had never happened. If it wasn't for the torn and bloody t-shirt, no one could have known the skin had ever been broken. "What the hell?" said Sam.

Dean looked at his little brother wide eyed. "How did that happen?"

Sam's brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure, but now that I think back on it, I have been healing faster than usual. When we fought those demons that were attacking Joshua, I got a small cut. It was gone the next day, but it was so tiny, I didn't think anything of it at the time."

The next thing Dean knew, Sam was crossing the room to his bed side table, rummaging inside. "What are you doing, Sam?"

"I have an idea, but I've gotta be sure," he said. He emerged with a bowie knife, glinting in the lamplight. Before Dean could stop him, his brother had run the blade across the flesh of his forearm. Blood dripped steadily from the gash.

"Jesus, Sam! Why'd you cut it so deep?" Dean bounded forward, pulling a bandana from his pocket to staunch the flow of blood.

Sam held up his hand, stopping his brother in his tracks. "Wait!"

Dean stopped and waited. The handprint that had been burned onto Sam's chest after the cleansing ritual began to glow. "Sam," he choked out, afraid.

Sam looked down, watching as the print glowed brighter. His hair began to blow in a breeze that blew only for him; the blood trickling down his arm began to reverse its path, drawing back into the wound as the skin of his arm began to knit itself back together. They watched, speechless as the glowing on his chest began to fade and the gentle wind blew out with a final gust.

"What the fuck just happened?" asked Dean, his voice hushed and awed.

"I don't know, but it didn't feel bad. It felt… clean. This must be a side effect from the ritual. I mean, Cas said that this was the hand of God, right?" Sam gestured to his chest, a faraway look in his eyes as he thought. "So maybe it has something to do with that."

"What, God is watching over you?" said Dean, his voice laced with skepticism.

"I dunno Dean, but it doesn't feel bad, so I don't think we should worry about it. We have bigger problems."

Dean worried at his lip as he thought. He hadn't sensed any malevolent presence during the healing, and Sam seemed fine now. If it was something nasty, it wouldn't be doing something like healing; if anything it would hinder Sam's healing rate. "Dean," Sam snapped him from his wayward thoughts.

"I dunno, Sammy. I don't know what to make of this."

Sam looked at Dean, eyes full of understanding. "Look, you're worried, I get it, but I don't think this is bad. Remember how you said you followed your instincts to turn Crowley human because it felt right? Well this feels right. You said that not trusting your instincts is what gets you killed. It's going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

His last sentence really got to the heart of the matter; he was afraid of losing Sam. He had just gotten him back. They were in harmony for the first time in a long time, and Dean wasn't about to let anything take his brother from him again. Dean looked into Sam's eyes and saw nothing bad there; no shadows of secrets kept, no deceit, just truth. But how could this be God? He knew God was out there, but he didn't believe he would come back or interfere with their lives directly. He had thought of the ritual as a metaphor, the mark had been brushed off as coincidence. It didn't matter that he was out there; Dean didn't believe in God. Not anymore. Sam looked at him pleadingly.

"Trust me, Dean."

And that was it. Dean crossed the space between them and pulled his brother into a hug. The bottom line was that Dean trusted Sam with his life. God and the Devil, angels and demons be damned. If Sammy said this was okay, then he believed him. Sam hugged him back without hesitation, his relief at being trusted bleeding through. There was a time where he distrusted his brother so deeply, he wouldn't have believed a word that was coming out of him mouth, but after the church and the promises they had made there, he believed. Dean might not believe in God, but he believed in Sam. Maybe wherever he was, God was watching over his little brother. Maybe God believed in Sam too.

They broke apart, and Sam smiled at him, a bright, happy smile that Dean hadn't seen in years. He returned it eagerly, and Sam started laughing. "Your fucking teeth, Dean, holy crap."

He gave him a shove towards the bed. "Yeah yeah, sasquatch. Get some sleep. And just you wait, I'll get you back."

"Night, Deano."

Dean shut the door and made his way down the hall, grinning like a fool the whole way back to his room. He slipped under the covers next to Cas. His angel rolled over in his sleep snuggling into his side. Before Cas, he never cuddled anyone ever. His angel was turning him into the girl he always accused Sam of being, and he didn't even mind. With that thought, smiling into Cas' fragrant hair, Dean drifted into dreams.

Cas awakened to the sound of the shower kicking on. He stretched out languidly, arms reaching for Dean, but the bed was empty. He must be the one getting in the shower. Cas smiled as he clambered out of the tangled covers and ran down the hall to the shower room. He slipped in, closing the door behind him and locking the deadbolt.

Dean was standing under the shower head in the middle of the room, his back turned to him. He was gloriously naked, water cascading down his broad shoulders and lean back, steam rolling through the entire room. Once again, Cas was taken aback by his hunters beauty, shocked that this Adonis belonged to him. He watched Dean wash himself, muscles bulging and glistening wet with water. Dean was his mate, his second chance at life. He loved him more than anything and seeing him like this -stoic and beautiful, like a marble statue in his perfection- touched a place in his heart. He felt his cock twitch and begin to fill, desire bolting through his blood. Cas quickly stripped and approached his hunter.

Dean felt arms close around him from behind; he knew it was Cas. The angel held him close, one arm around his waist, the other hand caressing his chest, tracing the rivulets of water pouring down his body. Castiel pulled him flush against his body, nipping, sucking the sensitive spot behind his ear. Dean let out a moan as he scraped his teeth down his exposed neck and bit gently into his shoulder, thrusting his hips forward so his arousal pressed into the swell of Dean's ass. The hunter was instantly, painfully hard. He spun around in Cas' arms and pulled him close, cocks brushing together as he pressed their mouths together.

Cas was putty in his hands as he traced the seam of his mouth with his tongue. His angel gasped and Dean took advantage, slipping into his mouth. He tasted warm and wild, sweet and clean, and Dean groaned as he ravished his mouth. The water running down his over sensitized skin was the best kind of torture. Suddenly, Cas pushed away and Dean released him, confused. Castiel looked at him, blue eyes clouded with lust, pupils blown wide, and sank to his knees.

Dean let out a choked noise as he watched Cas sink down, his fingers tracing over his chest and stomach as settled in. His angel grasped his girth in strong hands and began to stroke, slowly and gently. Heat slammed into his gut, the pleasure overwhelming. A burble of pre come escaped the tip and Cas swiped his thumb over the slit, collecting the drop. He looked up, eyes locked with Dean's as he sucked his finger into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste, moaning wantonly like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. When he had sucked his finger clean, he looked up at his hunter.

"Tell me what you want, Dean." Castiel's voice was even deeper than usual, gravely and wrecked and it sent shivers down his spine.

Oh fuck, his angel wanted him to talk dirty to him. He was more than happy to oblige. "Suck me Cas. Want your mouth on me."

Cas leaned in, kissing his thighs, sucking bruises everywhere except where he needed it most. He let out a choked little noise, and he felt Cas' breath ghosting over the head of his cock as he chuckled. "God, please Castiel, fuck, please."

Cas groaned at Dean's begging and leaned in. He licked softly at the head, tasting the pre come that had collected there and Dean jerked his hips forward, whimpering. Cas reached up and grasped his hips firmly before sealing his lips over the head of Dean's dick, taking him deeply into the wet heat of his mouth.

Dean felt as if his knees would buckle at the sensation of Cas sucking him. His angel twirled his tongue around the head and hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head. Dean's fingers tangled in Castiel's dark, wet hair. He tugged gently and Cas moaned, raking his fingernails gently up and down his hunter's thighs. Dean was burning up, an inferno raging out of control as Cas worshiped his body with his touch. His angel teased the bundle of nerves under the head before swiping his tongue over the slit, moaning at the flavor that burst on his taste buds.

Cas pulled off, and Dean whimpered at the loss of sensation. His angel looked up at him, lips swollen and pink, dripping wet, eyes burning and said, "Fuck my mouth, Dean."

The hunter groaned loudly and Cas kept on talking. "Please. Want it so bad." He sealed his lips back around his cock head. Dean grasped double handfuls of Cas' hair and thrust into his mouth shallowly, afraid of choking him. Cas broke off again, causing his hunter to whimper. "Come on, Dean, I can take it. Fuck my mouth," his voice was deep and wrecked and Dean was lost. He regained his handhold on his hair and thrust into the wet heat of his angel's mouth. Cas didn't choke; he moaned like it was the best feeling in the world and swallowed around him, taking him deep into his throat.

Dean thrust, rough and fast. It was sloppy and without finesse and the best blowjob he had ever received. The fact that it was Cas made it so much better. Castiel reached down to his own aching cock and began stroking fast and hard as Dean fucked his mouth. His orgasm was barreling down on him, threatening to tear him to shreds and he started babbling. "God, fuck Cas, you love this, don't you? Love getting your mouth fucked, lips stretched so pretty over my cock? Fucking love it, don't you? That's right, so good for me. Fuck, Cas, I'm gonna-"

Dean shouted as he shattered, pleasure ripping him apart from the inside. His hips stuttered, and Cas took him to the back of his throat and swallowed every drop his hunter gave him. It took all of his effort not to scream _I love you_ at the top of his lungs as he came and came in never ending waves of ecstasy.

When it was over, Cas let his softening cock slip from his lips. Dean looked down; his angel was still kneeling, hand stroking over his dick. Dean dropped to the ground and pushed the angel on his back on the shower floor, smacking his hand away from his aching cock. He took over, stroking him quickly. Cas' eyes rolled to the back of his head as he growled nonsense in Enochian. When he came, he shouted out, spilling all over Dean's hand, pulling him down for a desperate kiss. When it was over, they made out lazily, letting the hot water wash over them, rinsing them clean.

When the kiss broke, Cas lay his head back, eyes closed, content; Dean watched him. He was stunningly beautiful; dark hair clinging to his face, lashes casting shadows over high cheekbones, the strong column of his throat exposed and open. "Cas?" he started.

"Hmmm?"

Dean wanted to tell him he loved him so bad it was killing him, but the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn't do it. He could face down a blood thirsty monster or a demon or Satan himself, but he couldn't say three little words. Goddamnit. He chickened out and instead said, "Where did you learn to do that?"

Cas opened one eye, grinning cheekily. "From the pizza man."

Dean laughed, loud peals echoing around the tile walls. "We better get clean before the hot water runs out," he chuckled.

Cas smiled and took his hand, standing up. They showered off, exchanging kisses and sweet touches as they went. Cas smiled, a wide toothy grin and Dean dropped the bottle of soap he was holding, howling in laughter. Cas tilted his head in confusion. "What is it Dean?"

The hunter just pointed at the mirror. Cas approached it and examined his reflection. Everything looked normal, and he looked back at Dean bewildered. He snickered. "Smile, Cas."

He obliged and froze. His teeth were green. "Dean, how-" and then he caught sight of Dean's teeth; they were also green.

"Sammy pranked me. He put something in my toothpaste, and when you kissed me, it got on you."

Cas was silent for a moment, searching in his head for the proper thing to say. He couldn't think of anything, so he took a leaf out of Dean's book. "SAM, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Dean had never laughed harder in his life. God he was in love, and it was wonderful.


	11. Man In The Box

Wind blew through the open windows of the Impala as it rumbled down the highway, Zeppelin blasting from the speakers. Dean drove steadily, hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at his brother sitting silently beside him. Sammy was staring out the window, lost in thought. They were on their way to start the second trial; after dressing and climbing out of the shower together, Dean and Cas had gathered the others. Team Free Will had sat down in the kitchen of the bunker to discuss the trial. They had named the soul they wanted freed from Hell without a seconds hesitation: their brother, Adam.

Adam who had been pulled into a battle he wasn't meant to fight. Adam who had been in the cage with two pissed off archangels for countless centuries. Dean's stomach twisted with the thought. They had failed their brother horribly, but they were going to set things right. That's why they were on their way to Stull Cemetery; all their research said it would be easiest to pull Adam from the place the cage was last opened. They had no idea what kind of condition his soul would be in when they got it, but it was going to Heaven where it belonged. Anything was better than him staying in the cage.

Dean glanced back and caught Cas' gaze in the rearview mirror. Sapphire eyes crinkled at the corners in a reassuring smile. Cas knew how reluctant to return to the cemetery he and his brother were. Last time they were there, Sam had saved the world with the sheer force of his will and the love in his heart. Sam had sacrificed himself and saved the world, but he had left his brother. Dean had sat on his knees for hours after, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, staring at the ground as if he were hoping it would split open and the universe would eject his brother from the pit… but nothing had happened. Sam was gone. Bobby and Cas had sat at his side, offering what comfort they could, but he was inconsolable.

Dean struggled not to let the memory overtake him. He tensed, muscles strung tight as if in preparation for a fight when he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He looked over to see Castiel's face next to his own, eyes closed peacefully; his angel had leaned forward and rested his chin on his shoulder, offering comfort with his closeness. Dean relaxed and leaned his head into the touch, absorbing the comfort like a balm. Those times were behind them. Sam was sitting right next to him, alive and well. He had Cas. He had Kevin and Crowley. He was surrounded by family and friends. Everything would be okay. He steeled himself as he drove under the arch that marked the entrance of the boneyard.

Dean threw the car in park and they all got out, the doors creaking loudly as they slammed shut. Everyone was silent as the breeze blew softly around them, rustling their hair. Sam looked around the lot and then back to the car shining in the sunlight. He reached out and touched its glimmering frame softly, reaching in the open window to touch the army man crammed in the ashtray; he looked as if remembering something terrible and beautiful.

Dean broke the silence. "Well, let's do this." Sam gave the car one last pat and Team Free Will walked as one to the place where the earth had split open and swallowed his brothers. Castiel twined his fingers with Dean's, offering him support. The hunter returned the gentle pressure and smiled softly at his angel. Sam took a deep breath and spoke, "Death."

They all looked around, but nothing happened. "Let me try," said Cas calmly. He closed his eyes, thinking for a moment and said, "TELOC NOSTOAH OI OLANI."

The wind began to whip around them. "What did you say?" asked Dean.

"I called him with his true name in Enochian," said Cas with a small smile.

Dean glowed with pride; his angel was a genius. "You rang?" The wind died abruptly and Death stood before them.

"It's time for the second trial," said Crowley. He stood tall and proud, refusing to let the burden he was carrying bow him over.

Death tilted his head to the side, amused. "Am I to assume, judging by our location, that we are jail breaking your brother Adam from the cage?"

"Damn straight," Dean said, challenge in his voice, daring the horseman to disagree. Death narrowed his eyes at the hunter's tone, but said, "Very well." He swept forward, suit jacket billowing behind him. They watched attentively as the horseman dropped to his knees in the grass and placed both palms on the ground. He closed his eyes, face screwed up in concentration as he began to glow, illuminated in golden light. All at once the light flickered out. He pulled his hands back from the dirt, eyes flying open, his usually straight face breaking, betraying his surprise. Dean's heart dropped into his stomach; something was wrong.

"What is it?" asked Dean.

"Your brother is gone."

Dean's mouth gaped open. "What the hell do you mean gone?" said Sam.

"Adam is no longer in the cage. Someone else pulled him out."

"How is that possible?" shouted Dean angrily, "What could have done that? Angels? What the fuck has that kind of mojo? Why would they do that?"

"Do you know who did it?" asked Cas urgently.

"Yes," acknowledged Death.

"Then who was it?" Crowley's face was tight with tension, but he asked the question steadily, silencing a cough.

"Let me show you what happened here." Death beckoned Sam and Dean forward, directing them to stand in front of him. He looked to each of them and said, "Close your eyes and hold still." When they obliged, they each felt a hand pressing to their foreheads. The darkness behind their eyelids pulsed before they felt the world spin out from under their feet. When they opened their eyes, they were watching a scene play out before them as if it were a movie.

_A curvy, redheaded woman kneeled in the dirt of the cemetery, leather biker's jacket hanging open. "Father," She spoke softly, almost reverently. _

"_My child," Lucifer spoke, his words snaking through the air, making Dean's skin crawl. Sam flinched and automatically moved closer to his brother as if to hide behind him; Dean took a step in front of him, shielding him with his body. She shivered at the sound his voice. The temperature in the graveyard dropped rapidly; the plants around her began to wilt and freeze and a layer of ice covered the headstones. _

"_The Winchesters have undertaken the trials. I need help. What am I to do?"_

_Sam and Dean started. Who was she? How did she know what they were doing?_

_Lucifer spoke again. "I have chosen another Knight to join your ranks"_

_Another knight? Shit, this must be Abaddon in a new vessel. The Devil continued, "He still needs to be pushed over the brink, but when it is done he will hunt the Winchesters down. He will hunt them as relentlessly as an attack dog that scents blood." _

_Abaddon cocked her head, eyes flashing black. "Who father?"_

_A laugh echoed from the cage. Sam grasped his left hand in his right and brutally pressed his thumb into the fading scar there, shaking. The laugh echoed around them and brought back the ghost of a thousand others in Sam's head. Dean reached out and touched him, reassuring him that is wasn't real, that he was here for him. He didn't let go until he stopped shaking. _

_Abaddon threw her head back and laughed, the loud peals mixing with her master's in a cacophonous symphony. "Yes father," she said. She stood swiftly and backed up a few steps. Slim arms rose over her head as she began to chant. "CHRISTEOS NIA-COD OI EMETGIS NIDALI LIT M NIIS AR HAMI NOSTOAH AS OL MICMA!" _

_The ground began to shake; the earth split open, wind sucking inside of it, a portal ripped in the fabric of the universe. A body was ejected from it and the wound in the earth stitched itself back together again. Abaddon walked to the huddled, shaking figure on the ground. Dean's heart sank when the moonlight hit his face; it was Adam. He was barely recognizable. His clothes were torn off, and what little skin remained was covered in cuts and burns and bruises. The rest was flayed muscle and raw nerves visible as they never should be. The fingers and toes that hadn't been cut off were bent at odd angles. Both legs and arms were broken in multiple places, bones sticking from his flesh sickeningly. His intestines spilled from a ragged gash in in stomach, his broken ribs sticking out from his shredded torso. Adam's breaths were short and shallow; he was barely alive. _

_Sam and Dean started for him at the same time, but Death stopped them. "This is already over, it's just an echo. You can't help him. You need to watch." _

_They both settled reluctantly to witness the scene unfolding before them. Abaddon knelt before Adam. One of his eyes hung out of the socket, holding on by a nerve. He managed to open the other a sliver, the blue iris barely visible and look at the person above him. His voice came out quiet and broken, strained with the ghost of a thousand screams. "A-are you an….an angel?"_

_Abaddon reached for him slowly, caressing his hair. "Guess again." Her eyes flashed black; the hand that had been gentle before curled into a fist and collided with his face. The already shattered bone crunched sickeningly and he screamed, a torn, pathetic sound, raw with terror and pain, as fresh blood flooded from the gash. _

"_Adam," Abaddon spoke almost lovingly, "Do you want this to stop?"_

"_YES!" He screamed it, long and drawn out, sobbing on the end. _

"_I can make it stop, Adam, you just have to do what I say. Can you do that, lover?"_

"_YES!" He screamed it again. Dean felt like he was going to be sick. How could they have left him to suffer like this? Sam let out a choked noise beside him, and Dean reached out to him automatically. _

"_Swear it," whispered the demon. _

"_I SWEAR IT, I SWEAR, I SWEAR, PLEASE DON'T HURT ME ANYMORE! PLEASE, I'LL DO ANYTHING, PLEASE," Adam was pleading. _

_Abaddon bowed her head. "Very well. Open your mouth." Adam did as he was told, shivering and sobbing. The demon stood above him and ran a sharp, red fingernail down the flesh of her wrist, drawing blood. She held her bleeding wrist over his mouth and began to chant. "OL DONASDOGAMATASTOS TORZV OL BOOAPIS MAD." _

_Blood began to run steadily from the wound into the mouth of the broken boy below her, glowing with sickly power. Adam's body began to change. His bones retracted back into newly growing flesh. His dangling eye pulled back into the socket with a sickening squelch. His body rose from the ground, floating and spinning as he was healed. _

_Abaddon jerked her wrist away and cradled it to her chest; she looked drained and on the verge of collapse. Adam floated back to the ground feet first and stood with his back to them all, completely naked in the moonlight; there wasn't a mark on his body. _

"_Face me," she said softly. Adam turned around with almost militant precision, eyes still closed. "Look at me," she demanded. Their brother's eyes sprang open' they were black. "What are you?" asked Abaddon._

"_A Knight of Hell," said Adam, his voice low and menacing. _

"_And whom do you serve?"_

"_Lucifer," he said obediently, "What are my orders?"_

"_You will hunt and kill the men who left you to rot. You will hurt them with whatever means you have at your disposal. You will make them suffer as you suffered. Tell me, lover, what is your mission?"_

_Adam's eyes flashed from black to their familiar blue. "Kill Sam and Dean Winchester." _

The world around them began to swirl and pulse until they were once again back in their own bodies. They fell to their knees at the same time. "Oh, God," Dean choked. Castiel was at his side in a second as Crowley rushed to help Sam to his feet.

"Dean, what happened? What is it?"

Dean's head was bowed as he spoke. "It was Abaddon. She pulled Adam out and… she made him into a Knight of Hell. She knows about the trials and she ordered him to stop us."

Cas paled and pulled Dean to him, holding him close. "It's not your fault Dean. It's going to be okay." Dean's frame shuddered under his touch. Cas kissed his eyelids, his nose, his mouth, trying to convey comfort with his touch. Crowley was talking to Sam quietly, trying to console him. Dean took a deep, steadying breath and did what he did best; he locked it away to think about later. He rose to his feet, Cas by his side and walked to his brother. Death was standing nearby, watching the scene before him play out silently.

"Sammy," Dean reached for his brother and pulled him to his feet, "We can't do this now. We have to do the second trial. We have to finish them, and fast. Before Adam catches up to us."

Sam was still shaking. Dean pulled him down for a hug. "Let it go, brother. We'll fix it later. We gotta do this now. I need you to hold it together for me. Can you do that?"

Sam returned his hug. When they let go, he took a deep breath and got a hold of himself. "Okay," he said. "Okay, so who are we saving now that Adam is out of reach?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Where is our Dad?"

Death closed his eyes for a moment, focusing, looking for his soul. "Hell," he answered.

"Alright," said Dean, "that's who we're getting."

They all nodded in agreement when Dean's cell phone began to ring. He fished it out of the pocket and looked at the caller ID; it was blocked. He flipped the cell phone open and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dean,did you miss me?" His stomach churned; it was Adam.

"What, no answer for your long lost little brother? That's okay; I don't need you to talk. I just need you to listen."

"Dean, who is it?" asked Sam.

"Adam," he mouthed.

The others stared as his brother continued. "1119 North Eldon Avenue, Conway Springs, Kansas. Go now. It's no trap, but you aren't going to like what you find there. Not one bit. And this is just a taste of what's coming your way. See you later, bro." The line went dead and Dean slowly lowered the phone from his ear.

"We have to go. We have to go right now."

"What's happening?" asked Sam alarmed now.

"He gave me an address. Said we wouldn't like what we found. But people might be hurt or trapped because of us. We have to go." Cas and Crowley nodded their agreement. Dean turned to Death. "When this is taken care of, can you still take us into Hell?"

Death nodded his consent. "I can manage that. Go, do what you must." With a swish of his coat, the horseman vanished. Team Free Will ran for the car, climbed in, and peeled out of the graveyard. Sam pulled a map of Kansas out of the glove compartment and opened it. "We're 200 miles out. Once we're on the I-35 S, it's a straight shot all the way to Conway Springs. I think we worked a job there or something. It sounds familiar"

Dean put the pedal to the metal and tore down the highway.

Dean pulled outside of the familiar house, and checked the address against what Adam had told him on the phone. He realized why it sounded familiar to Sam. "No," he said, "oh God, no."

"Dean?" Sam looked scared.

It was Krissy, Aiden, and Josephine's house; the three kids who's families had been murdered to make them hunters. The kids who had banded together, created a family.

"Oh no," said Sam in barely a whisper. There was a new sign driven into the ground of the front yard that read, _Krissy's Daycare Service, ages 1-10 welcome_. "Dean, they started a fucking daycare. They have kids."

No one said another word. They got out of the car and opened the trunk, gearing up before running up the drive; the door was locked. Dean knocked, but no one answered; he kicked the door down without a second thought. Blood covered every surface. The walls, the ceiling, the carpet and hardwood, the family photos on the walls. Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second; he didn't want to see this. He knew what he would find here, and he didn't know if he could take it. He felt Cas' hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Their eyes met, and his angel gave him a small nod, like he was telling him he could do this, that it was going to be okay. He took a deep breath before making himself walk into the living room.

Josephine was tied to a chair, he throat slit so deep her head was almost severed her shoulders. Krissy lay on the floor, her beautiful brown eyes open, seeing nothing. Blood was smeared on the pale skin of her cheek, every inch of skin on her arms and legs covered in deep cuts. She had been tortured. Aiden lay on top of her, as if he had died shielding her with his body. The fire poker was sticking out of his back and was buried deeply enough to skewer both him and the girl beneath him. There was a video tape that bore the message **WATCH ME**, on a nearby table.

They crossed as one to the bodies. Castiel untied Josephine and Sam and Dean went to Aiden and Krissy; they had died with their hands intertwined, Aiden's face buried in Krissy's dark hair. Dean was barely holding it together. They pulled the poker from the bodies and lay them side by side. After a moment of thought, Castiel leaned down and interlocked their fingers once more, smoothing the bloodstained hair from the young girls face before covering them with a sheet.

Crowley scooped up the tape and crossed to the outdated VCR. In order to play it, he had to eject a copy of Lilo and Stitch. He pushed play; the screen went black for a second and then cut to a home video of Krissy and Josephine talking about the new daycare. Apparently it was just a cover; they had been sheltering kids whose parents were killed by something supernatural. They had ten children with them; three babies and seven young ones. The video cut to a new scene and the timestamp changed to today's date. Aiden and Krissy were joking around with Josephine filming them, the table crowded with kids eating lunch.

"_You know you like me," said Aiden with a smile. _

"_No I don't, shut up," she said punching him lightly on the shoulder. _

_The lights began to flicker. Their heads all snapped up as the house began to shake. They sprang into action, camera forgotten on the coffee table, but still rolling; they pulled a handle and revealed a hidden panic room in the back of the linen closet. "Jamie, listen to me," Krissy said to the oldest boy. His red hair stuck up in all directions. He couldn't be more than ten. "You go in here, lock the door, and you don't open it for anyone but us, you understand?" He nodded and she put him inside, ushering the others in; some of the older children holding the babies. Krissy, Aiden, and Josephine all grabbed shotguns and waited. The front door flew open and Adam walked in. They pumped him full of rock salt, but he just waved an arm and sent them all crashing into the walls, helpless. _

"_Hiya," he said smiling. _

"_What do you want?" Aiden spat._

"_Want?" He laughed, "I don't want anything except for your lives. It's your lucky day. You kids get to help me hurt Sam and Dean Winchester."_

"_Whatever," said Krissy defiantly, "We're not telling you jack shit. If you're gonna kill us, get it over with."_

"_Oh, sweetheart, I'm not going to let you die for a long time. Tell me, you ever see Star Wars?"_

"_What's that got to do with anything?" asked Josephine._

"_I always loved Anakin Skywalker," he said cheerfully. He walked over to the arsenal they had left out and picked up the biggest gun they had, loading it. "See, I always thought I was like him; Dark Side and all of that. So that's what I'm about to do. I'm about to go Skywallker." He crossed to Krissy, grabbed her by the face and blew a stream of smoke into her mouth. "Show me what you saw." They both froze for a moment while Adam absorbed her memories. When it was over he smiled. _

"_Ah, Jamie's in charge of guarding the door?" he said. Krissy opened her mouth to scream, but Adam moved his fingers in a cut motion and her voice was silenced. All of them were trying to shout, voices held at bay by Adam's power as he crossed with the weapon to the closet. When Adam opened his mouth to speak, Krissy's voice came out; he could mimic her perfectly. "Jamie, let me in sweetie." He backed away from the door and waited for the child to open the door. Jamie pushed it open wide and Adam opened fire. The three teens on the wall were screaming silently, struggling against invisible bonds, tears streaming down their faces as Adam blew away child after child. When he emptied the clip, he put in another and fired every bullet into the small bodies. _

_When they were all dead, he turned his attention back to the teens, starting with Josephine. He gave them their voices back so he could listen to their screams. He tied her to a chair and slit her throat. Krissy screamed for her friend over and over. _

"_You son of a bitch!" she screamed. _

_Adam turned back to her and began cutting every inch of exposed skin on her body. _

"_That's my mother you're talking about," he said, laughing before turning to Aiden. The boy slid from the wall and was being forced across the room when he saw an opening. He slung a hidden container of holy water into Adam's face. While he was burning, Krissy slid down the wall and Aiden pulled them flush together, face to face, trying to guide her._

"_Come on, we gotta g-" He was cut off. Adam had risen, grabbed the poker from the fireplace and rammed it through Aiden's body and into Krissy's. They swayed and fell, Aiden on top. He reached a bloody hand up and touched her face, accidentally smearing blood on her cheek and he stroked the pale skin. "S-so….beautiful," he whispered. _

"_You know Aiden, she choked out, "always liked you. Was stupid. Now we're o-out of t-time." _

_He kissed her softly as the light left her eyes before collapsing himself. Adam laughed and danced around the room before beginning to paint the walls with the blood of the dead children. When he noticed the camera, he smiled into it. "Sam, Dean. I told you that you wouldn't like what you found here. I'm not going to kill people you saved. I'm going to kill everyone you ever loved, and that list is short. And you know what? There is nothing you can do to stop me. This is my revenge for leaving me in Hell. And when I'm done with them, you're next." He stopped and looked at his watch. "Well, look at the time. Bye guys." _

The camera cut out and Dean stepped back, trying to keep it together, but he couldn't. He swiped the nearest lamp off of a table; it shattered against the wall with a crash. He over turned the table next, ripping a leg off with his bare hands, not feeling the splintered wood that pierced his hands as he smashed it like a baseball bat into the wall, again and again. The world was spinning like a top around him. There was a terrible noise over the ringing in his ears; he couldn't figure out where it was coming from until he felt gentle hands take the table leg from him. The awful noise was him; he was screaming. The hands clutched at his face. He recognized those hands, but he couldn't think. Not now. He heard a shaky voice say, "Cas, get him out of here," and then the familiar hands were leading him away, away from the carnage and blood. Blood that was on his hands. The world was lurching around him. His fault. This was his fault. The ground rushed up to meet his face and then there was nothing.


End file.
